


Not So Bad

by CubanelleFatalii



Series: Not So Bad [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: M/M, Owen and DMA aren't separate characters (Curt is just really oblivious tbh), Slightly altered canon, that leaves a huge impact on the outcome of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2020-07-29 15:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20084752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubanelleFatalii/pseuds/CubanelleFatalii
Summary: Curt and the Deadliest Man Alive form a tentative sort of friendship.





	1. Somebody’s Gotta Do It

**Author's Note:**

> Curt has his first encounter with the Deadliest Man Alive and finds that there's something... pretty off about the way he acts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt has his first encounter with the Deadliest Man Alive and finds that there's something... pretty off about the way he acts.

The first time agent Curt Mega saw the Deadliest Man Alive, he was surprised. The hitman didn't act like how he expecting someone like him really should. 

He was spying in the shadows, waiting for the bomb to be delivered for his taking. He could have never assumed that the bomb salesman would be so… hapless. Being late for the meeting with a man quite literally titled the Deadliest Man Alive would make even the stoniest of men nervous, but this guy was a complete wreck. Seeing a dangerous criminal miffed at him, he began to ramble on and on about things that a person with a kill count of 1147 people could never possibly care about. Love, family, weddings, a goddamned _ bakery?_ _ He was late for his meeting with the Deadliest Man Alive because he went to a bakery?! _

Curt was expecting one of two things:

Either the man’s death would be swift and cutting - 

Or the man’s death to be slow and agonizing. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for there to be no killing at all. Well, at least not of the bomb salesman. 

He watched with confusion at the Deadliest Man Alive restrained his servants from attacking the man, he braced himself when the man (Sergio, his name was) asked for the terrorist’s autograph, and was completely bewildered when not only did Sergio live to tell the tale, but that the DMA actually agreed to sign - and did so without complaint. 

It was only a matter of time before a bloodbath, but the faux evil bomb salesman was left unscaved. In fact, it was a member of the company that went rogue and killed their working partner. The death of the brief second deadliest man in the world could have almost seemed justified. 

The agent had to tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding below him. The Deadliest Man Alive was gloating, sure, that was to be expected; what he didn’t expect was how _ friendly _ the killer was acting towards the bomb salesman. The arm over the shoulder, the affable pat and smiles. 

Curt knew right away that this was no ordinary sadistic killer. There was something different about him. 

Still, he did have 1148 kills under his belt now. He wasn’t someone you wanted to face head on. 

“You came here to do this, so do the job.” Curt breathed to himself, about to enter the fray when he noticed another person in the room - a woman. 

_ Who’s that woman? What’s she doing? _

He watched helplessly as she descended down a ladder and held the DMA and Sergio at gunpoint. 

“Freeze!” She shouted, glaring down the two criminals, “Your hands in the air.”

Sergio panicked while the Deadliest Man Alive merely shot back at her with a quip. 

“Shut your mouth.” She said, bringing the gun closer to him.

“I second that motion!” Curt stumbled awkwardly, trying to be involved in what was supposed to be his mission. 

The DMA whipped around, eyes trained solely on Curt. His face displayed some amount of shock for only a millisecond before contorting into a grimace.

** _“You.”_ **

“Do we know each other?” Curt asked, but before the DMA could even manage a scoff, Sergio began excitedly gushing. 

His arms deal was being busted by the most famous spy in the world. He just _ had _ to get his signature for his nephew!

“That’s enough, Sergio.” The DMA growled, yanking Curt’s gun from his hand and firing into empty space until there were no more bullets left. 

“Hey - what?!” Curt protested whilst the woman stole the bomb dealer’s cake, rolled her eyes, and trained her gun on it. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa - please! You don’t gotta do it. Don’t ruin my anniversary. I’m a good guy, I’m a family man. Ay dios mio! Don’t make me go back to the bakery. You don’t gotta do it. Please! Please! Have mercy…” he rambled, falling to his knees and pleading. 

The woman tossed the cake back to him, and without another word, took off with the bomb. In the confusion Curt snatched an address that had fallen out of her pocket and pocketed it himself before returning his gaze to the Deadliest Man Alive. 

Sergio awkwardly glanced between Curt and the DMA before rambling again, “Look, guy. I need to get back to my wife and -” 

“Just go.” The Deadliest Man Alive said. Sergio ran off. The DMA tossed the empty gun back to Curt and waited.

“You’re just going to let her get away with that?!” Curt yelled eventually, still processing what was happening.

“Better than letting you get it.” The DMA spat. 

“Wh- huh? What’s your problem with me?” 

“You’re agent Curt Mega, aren’t you? Capable, dangerous spy working for the CIA. Come out of retirement after those four years, have you?” The DMA tilted his head, eyeing Curt up and down. 

“What… what of it?” Curt asked, suddenly self conscious. 

“In the documents we’ve got on you… you don’t have a beard. It’s a bad look on you.” 

“I didn’t ask your opinion nor do I care.” Curt crossed his arms. 

“No, you don’ care about anyone bu’ yourself.” The DMA rolled his eyes. 

Curt furrowed his brow in confusion. Why was this random terrorist making personal assumptions about him? What on earth did he know? 

“Okay, weirdo.” _ Nice comeback Curt. _

“I also din’t quite imagine you’d smell like absolute shite.” He went on. Curt rolled his eyes. 

“I’m a recovering alcoholic, asshole.”

“You were s’pposed to retrieve that bomb then, yeah? Really cocked that one up.” The DMA continued. 

“...Did you spare my life just to insult me a bunch?” 

“Maybe.” 

Curt blinked. Something was really off about this guy, and he could not for the life of him pin down what made him tick. 

“You probably just weren’t cut out to return to the whole spy business. Doe’n suit ya. Like that ugly beard.” Man, this guy just wouldn’t shut up. 

“Alright, I’m leaving.” Curt glowered. 

“I’ll be seeing you again, I’m sure.” The Deadliest Man Alive nodded, giving Curt a casual yet venomous smile. 

The agent began to skulk off when the DMA’s voice called to him one last time. 

“Oh, and Mega?” 

Curt didn’t turn around. 

“Shave that disgusting beard, won’t you?”

* * *

“Has the transaction gone according to plan?”

The Deadliest Man Alive practically hissed into the phone, “Eve’ythin’ was goin’ smoothly. Then **he **had to show up.”

* * *

“The Deadliest Man Alive,” Cynthia explained, pointing to the projector. 

Curt looked at the profile and couldn’t help but think that the man he spoke to and the Deadliest Man Alive on the screen didn’t really look completely alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the first chapter is kind of poopy, the biggest struggle is trying to recreate some weird slightly altered events. I think it's going to get better hopefully once I'm able to stray further and further from canon. (canon? who is she?) 
> 
> Also oof expect the whole thing to be dialogue heavy since apparently that's my niche? sorry family


	2. Not So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Audience: the nazis are not so bad
> 
> Curt: wHaT tHe FuCk iS wRoNg wItH yOu PeOpLe?!

“I’m sorry.” Tatiana confessed. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Curt said. 

“Yes… I do.” Without meeting his eye, Tatiana opened the door to her room. 

The Deadliest Man Alive stepped out, gun trained on Curt’s head.

_ “Hello Mega.” _

* * *

Curt noticed a few things when he first returned to consciousness. Firstly, that he was tied to a chair. Second, that Tatiana was there, and third: _ She was holding that damn bomb. _

_ She and the Deadliest Man Alive had been working together this whole time. THAT was why he had let her take it. _

And speak of the devil, there he came… following… a Nazi? _ Von Nazi. _

“Well, well, well. Agent Curt Mega. I have heard so much about you now we finally meet. Face to face.” Von Nazi declared, strolling over to where Curt was tied and smirking. 

“Face, huh? _ Like the one your uncle had before he blew it off?” _ Curt countered. 

Von Nazi glared to turned to the Deadliest Man Alive for support. The DMA just cringed at him before gazing towards Curt. His eyes seemed to be stuck on Curt, not that his target noticed with his current predicament and all. 

“I’m in charge here, Mega.” the Nazi gloated. 

“You’re _ insane, _” Curt shot back, then turned to glare at Tatiana, “And you’re not so bright yourself working for this maniac.” 

“We all have our reasons.” Tatiana said softly. The DMA turned his eyes towards her. 

“Don’t get involved, love.” He warned. 

Then Von Nazi was gloating again. Tatiana was silent, holding the bomb and standing perfectly still. The DMA was rolling his eyes. Curt just looked incredulous. 

Of course this plan wouldn’t work. History always swayed towards the side of justice, and the Nazis had been defeated before in the past. There was no possible outcome for this man outside of failure.

“The Nazis are the most notorious villains of all time.” He had said. 

“Villains? We’re the villains?” And there Von Nazi was, defending Nazi Germany. 

“The _ Russians,_” Von Nazi spat, “Are the villains.” 

Tatiana said nothing, even when Curt swiveled around to look at her. The Deadliest Man Alive glared. 

“-And you _ Americans. _ You’re even worse.” Curt rolled his eyes. The DMA took a step forward. 

_ “The Nazi’s… well…” _Von Nazi began. 

The DMA groaned, “I feel a song coming on…” 

_ Was… Was this guy actually going to start singing? _

Curt turned to look directly at the DMA, “Is this really happening right now?” he asked. The Deadliest Man gave an almost sympathetic nod, because, _ yes_, yes it was. 

And he hated agent Curt Mega. But even the DMA could grasp that the absurdity of the situation called for something at least amicable between them if they were going to survive a bout of ridiculous Nazi singing. They were in this together, after all. Curt, the Deadliest Man Alive, and Tatiana too. 

Curt looked to Tatiana, who looked back at him for a moment before looking over at the Deadliest Man Alive, who pursed his lips and returned her gaze. They just looked at each other for a moment, while the man in front of them blathered on about the virtues of the Nazis. Then they collectively raised their eyebrows and watched Von Nazi’s performance, occasionally making eye contact when an especially ridiculous point was brought up. 

It was only when the henchmen arrived that the Deadliest Man couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and walked over to Curt, locking eyes with his and Tatiana's before leaning against the wall. 

“Nazi’s aren’t so bad, we’re not so bad, we’re not so-” the henchmen sing. 

“What about **genocide**?!” Curt interrupted, earning a whining _ ‘Shut up!’ _ from Von Nazi. 

The DMA was actually grinning at him now. Even Tatiana had a ghost of a smile on her face. 

“He’s an idiot.” The Deadliest Man grumbled so that only Tatiana and Curt could hear. 

“No kidding,” Curt said while Tatiana gave a small nod, “I don’t even… why are they doing that?” Curt tilted his head towards where the Nazis were dancing together. 

“Don’t ask me, Mega. No clue what’s ‘appening in tha’ mind a ‘is.” 

“Are you seriously working with Nazis? I thought you were more high class than that.” Curt sounded disgusted. Tatiana winced. 

“Oh, there’s _ nothing _ high class about me, Mega, nothing ‘cept for my kill-count ‘at is.” The DMA chuckled, a sardonic grin on his face. 

The Deadliest Man alive then leaned further against the wall, moving so that his entire body was even closer to Curt, his voice dropped to barely a whisper, “You are onto something, though. I’m _ truly _ not working with that idiot. No, no, darling agent. I’m merely _ playing him. _”

“You - What? You _ are?!” _ Curt sputtered. The Deadliest Man Alive gave a little shrug. 

“I’m a very good actor, Mega.” 

“But… why would you tell me?” Curt asked. He thought that he had seen the Deadliest Man Alive’s eyes widen for a split-second, but when he blinked the man’s face was devoid of any obvious strong feelings. Must have imagined it. 

“I ‘ave my reasons.” The DMA said. 

_ Did he? _

“So, if that’s the case, why let him do this dumb shit. Why not, y’know…” Curt’s voice lowered and he not-so-subtly imitated being choked to death. 

“In time, Mega. For now, we all have our roles to play. Jus’ the way it works.” The DMA said, he looked like he was about to say more when Von Nazi spun around and interrupted them, grinning from ear-to-ear. 

“So, did I convinced you or what?” He asked confidently. 

Curt took a deep breath, pretended to mull it over in his head for a bit, then looked up at Von Nazi with a bored expression.

“No.” 

Tatiana swayed a bit where she stood while the Deadliest Man Alive grinned for a moment before sobering completely and waiting for Von Nazi’s orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for still reading this friends


	3. The Torture Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The DMA is ordered to kill Curt, but first he's gonna torture the living shite out of him (AKA I butcher the Torture Tango)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, predictably... warning that there is torture in this chapter.

“This is all just some sick joke, right?” Curt demanded. 

The Deadliest Man Alive scoffed, leaning in so that he was closer to Curt, “Look at ‘im. So much effort woul’nt be _ wasted _ on a joke, Mega.”

“Ha! Seems his noggin’s a bit dense!” One of the Nazi henchmen laughed, her tone sweet yet mocking. 

Some sort of reflex must have kicked in, because the Deadliest Man Alive found himself whirling around before he even knew what was happening with his body and thrusting a dagger into the woman’s side, “I can speak for myself, thank you very much!” 

The woman squeaked before stumbling back and exiting the room, probably to go lick her wound. The Deadliest Man Alive wasn’t exactly positive what set him off in that sudden rage, but even watching her go and the other Henchmen cooing over her, he didn’t feel a shred of guilt. He thought, for some reason in the back of his mind, that she deserved it. He placed the knife back into his pocket and turned back to hear what his ‘employer’ had to say. 

“Long musical number short, I am rebuilding the Nazi empire in a new nation.” He explained. 

“What country would be stupid enough to let you goose step their borders and plant your Nazi flag?” Curt questioned. 

“Perhaps your dear director Cynthia Houston could answer that.” 

Von Nazi clapped, and sure enough, a grainy sound clip of Cynthia could be heard echoing across the room. The Deadliest Man Alive swallowed.

“Now the prince of the New Democratic Republics of Old - oh fuck it. He’s an inexperienced, inbred, dumbo, doofus and all the great leaders feel the same way… That doesn’t leave this room.”

Curt looked around rapidly, trying to decipher where the voice was coming from - and more importantly - how they got this tape in the first place. 

“Where did that come from?” He asked. 

“A little birdie told me.” Von Nazi said with mock-wonderment. 

The DMA placed his hand on Curt’s shoulder, “_ That _little birdie being an advanced network of information surveillance that we’ve been-”

“Boring!” Curt cut him off. The DMA scowled and removed his hand. 

“Well, you fucking asked?” 

Von Nazi glared at them, “Enough of that, you two. What’s important is that I am now privy to the little secrets that world leaders say behind each other’s backs, and I plan to use it to my advantage. Tomorrow night, the Deadliest Man will kidnap the idiot prince and hold him ramson, with the added threat of blowing up their nation’s capital with the bomb stolen by our dear Tatiana,” the woman winced, “When none of the great powers come to his aid, I will sweep in and offer them a helping hand. It is THEN that I will rise as the new Fuhrer!” 

The Nazi henchmen cheered and applauded, the Deadliest Man Alive only had a small smirk on his face.

“Watch this,” the DMA muttered to Curt before tilting his head up and waltzing next to Von Nazi. 

“Sir, sir, don’t forget about your advanced Nazi super castle!” He said with mock enthusiasm. Von Nazi brightened. Was the Deadliest Man Alive trying to make him laugh? Curt rolled his eyes. He didn’t get this guy at all. 

“Yes, yes, yes! Even if we don’t blow up the capital, we’re going to build a new one. On a special plot of land picked out by the Deadliest Man himself!” At hearing this, the DMA took a short bow. 

“Very best lil’ bit of soil it is. Perfect for building an empire sir.” He said.

One of the Henchmen nodded, “It’s also a landscape rich in natural materials like silic-” the Deadliest Man Alive shot him a deadly look and handed him his machete. The man shakily took it and stabbed himself. Curt cringed. 

“Good thing this powder keg is working for me, eh?” Von Nazi laughed, “Tatiana, prepare the bomb for transport.” 

_ “I thought I was free after this was over!” _she argued. Her words fell on deaf ears. 

“Mister Deadliest Man Alive, please show this guest to his death. I shall await my cheeseburger in my chambers.” 

“Cheeseburger, huh…” Curt questioned in as suave a voice he could muster, “Sounds awfully… American.”

The Deadliest Man Alive pressed his palm to his head in exasperation while the two argued and Tatiana left with the bomb. Finally, when Von Nazi left, the DMA just shook his head and grinned. 

“Looks like I’m up.” The Deadliest Man Alive commented, grabbing onto Curt’s chair and bringing it closer to him. 

“What? Wait! Wait!” Curt recoiled his head away, “Dude, I thought we were cool!” 

The DMA’s eyes darkened, “No, I woul’ say that we’re decidedly ‘not cool’, Mega. You may be able to get into other people’s heads, bu’ not mine. See, I’m a steel-trap of secrets that would. Blow. Your. Fucking. Mind.”

“You don’t really want to kill me.” Curt tried, the DMA just shook his head. 

“You’re right, no’ yet. Before I kill you, I want to torture the living shite outta ya first.” He sighed and brought out a pair of pliers, “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so many years. Now, I can ‘ardly believe it. You’re finally here. You better believe I’m going to enjoy this, Mega.” The Deadliest Man Alive had lowered himself to his knees and was practically whispering into Curt’s ear, his hands were touching him all over as if he honestly could not believe that Curt was right there in front of him. 

He snapped the pliers at Curt in what was probably a scare tactic, and Curt would be a liar to say that it wasn’t working. With every click, he winced and recoiled away, not knowing what the Deadliest Man Alive was planning to do with it and desperately not wanting to find out. 

“So sit back and relax, Mega. I’ve got our evenin’ date all planned out. Even cleared up your schedule for ya.” Again, the Deadliest Man Alive’s hands were on his, shaking his shoulders or pulling his head close enough to his own that they were practically knocked into each other. 

“Trust me,” the Deadliest Man Alive moved closer with those horrible pliers, and Curt couldn’t stop his mouth from being forcibly pried open, “You’re in good…” 

The pliers made their way into his mouth and took hold of one of his bottom molars. Curt struggled and screamed as his tooth was forcibly ripped from his mouth, blood dripped from his lip and stained his white tuxedo, “Hands!” the Deadliest Man Alive finished, as Curt was wincing and moaning from the pain. 

“Why are you doing this…” Curt asked weakly. He was met with a harsh splat across the face as a response before the Deadliest Man Alive began to grab something else. 

“This is my role, Mega, the Master Torturer. Now yours, righ' now, is bein' my victim.” The DMA started saying to him. Curt’s ears were ringing and his mouth was filled with the taste of copper. He didn’t want to hear it. 

“See, it gets me high to show you the _ horror _of staying alive. So you’re goin’ to be good for me and…” Curt could vaguely register with his blurred vision the Deadliest Man Alive bringing out some sort of machine and wires and - Curt’s mind went fuzzy as his body fried with his electric shock that the Deadliest Man Alive distributed. 

“Suffer.” Shock.

“Suffer.” Shock.

“Suffer.” Shock. 

Curt groaned. He just wanted this to be over already. Why wouldn’t this madman just kill him? ...Why doesn’t he ask?

“Why don’t you just kill me already.” Curt grumbled, voice weak and trembling. 

“If tha’s what you want,” The DMA chuckled darkly, he grabbed Curt’s head, brought out his machete, and raised it up, “Then it’s time you get what you deserve.” 

The machete pressed its way up to Curt’s neck, instilling him with the fear that these were truly his final moments being alive. He shut his eyes, feeling his cheeks wetten with the stream of tears that he didn’t even bother to try and control. Instead he waited. And waited. And waited. 

Moments passed. Seconds turned to minutes and it soon felt like he was just sitting there for hours. 

Slowly, Curt opened his eyes to see that the Deadliest Man Alive had completely frozen in place. He was staring at his own weapon-wielding hand, but it seemed like he just couldn’t bring himself to move it. Due to being so close, Curt could recognize that it was even shaking slightly. 

“Uh… Deadliest Man Alive…?” Curt coughed eventually. The DMA looked at him then averted his gaze, so Curt just continued, “Are you… okay?” 

The man shook his head, he looked spacey. Slowly, the machete was moved away from Curt’s neck and hung limply at the DMA’s side. 

“I can’t do it.” The Deadliest Man Alive appeared utterly haunted by this realization. 

“I can’t kill you.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Curt. 

“I need to but I can’t.” He was definitely speaking to himself. 

Curt, despite himself, felt a bit guilty listening to this. Something clearly wasn’t right with this situation and leave it to Curt Mega to feel for the guy who just ripped out his tooth and shocked him until his brain felt like it was filled with cotton. 

“Look, man. It’s… going to be alright, okay?” Curt tried. 

The Deadliest Man Alive looked at him incredulously before sighing in defeat. 

Now was not the time for Mega to play nice with him. Now was the time for Mega to say something cocky or mock him for his weakness. He wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be kind. 

The DMA had one job, one essential mission he needed to complete. But like this, it was impossible. Despite all necessity, he couldn't bring himself to do it. They were getting nowhere now, and the Deadliest Man Alive was not about to be caught stalling what should have been a quick and easy kill. There was only one option he had left. 

He knelt down and untied Curt. The man gave the DMA a quick nod before trying and failing to stand and stay standing.

“Alright, up you get,” the DMA grumbled, grabbing onto Curt’s upper arm and yanking him forward, “Come on, Mega. You need to get going.” 

Curt gazed at his former captor with foggy eyes, bobbing his head to and from the man’s hand and his face. His stomach dropped and his head pounded as a rush of unwelcome deja vu overcame his senses. 

**“Owen?”** He asked in a delirium. 

There was no time for him to gauge the Deadliest Man’s reaction to his mistake, as a hard swing from the dull side of a machete crashed down on the back of his skull. He stumbled forward, groaning, before blacking out - only vaguely aware of someone catching before he could come crashing face first onto the floor. 

Tatiana, Curt unconscious in her arms, stared quizzically at the Deadliest Man Alive. 

“Oh, hello, love,” the DMA tried playing it cool, but Tatiana could detect from the subtle quiver in his voice just how uneasy he felt, “Din’t see ya there.” 

The woman looked down at a chain furled atop a bag, “You didn’t feel like using that?” She asked. The Deadliest Man Alive glared at her. 

“I’ll let you go without a word if you do me one favor, love.” He said finally. 

“What is it?” 

The Deadliest Man Alive pointed towards her gun, “Knock me out an’ leave. Don’ wan’ ‘em knowing I let ‘im go willingly.

Tatiana nodded, gently set the unconscious Curt down onto the floor and bashed the DMA’s skull with her gun. When he collapsed on the floor, she gathered Curt up and ran. 


	4. We Love the Prince <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Curt Mega just can't catch a break.

Curt groaned, head throbbing and tooth decidedly missing. He blinked open his eyes to see Barb looming over him and let out a yelp of surprise, which sent her flying back as well. 

“Curt, you’re awake!” she cried happily, falling to her knees and scooting up next to him. Curt groaned again. 

“Barb, where are we…?” 

“We’re on an elevator in Monte Carlo. We need to get you to a hospital, hon.” she said sweetly.

Curt shook his head and began to lift himself up, “No. That maniac is gonna crash the most important political event of the decade. We’ve gotta go stop him.” 

“Whoa there. I can’t let you do that.” Barb said quickly, trying to pull him back down. 

“And why not?” Curt asked. 

“Y-You… You don’t have authorization to continue this mission!” Barb cried. 

“Wait. _ What? _” 

“Cynthia’s direct orders.” 

Curt laughed, “Doesn’t matter. I’m going anyways.” 

“Curt _ please! _If you do this you could jeopardize your job, my job, even the entire agency!” Barb begged. Curt’s expression hardened. 

“I don’t care! I need to go! I have to see-” 

Just then, the elevator dinged and a man stepped in. He surveyed the scene happening before him with utmost awkwardness and forced himself into a corner. Curt and Barb stopped talking to stare at him and make him even more uncomfortable. When the elevator dinged again he coughed slightly and explained that “Uh… this is… my floor.” in a small voice before hurrying out of the elevator. 

Right after he left, Curt and Barb fell back into position like there hadn’t been any interruption at all. 

“See, Barb. I need to go to Geneva because, well. I was - I _ am _ \- supposed to be the best. And the best agent saves the entire world and everyone in it. No matter who they are.” 

Barb shot in a curious look. 

“...like some idiot prince that everyone hates. Yeah. Someone has to save the world, and I’m pretty sure that I’m the one to do it.” 

So there Curt found himself, in the World Peace Gala in Geneva, scrambling about and trying to get anyone to hear his pleas to save the prince. Though, of course, no one would listen to him. Not Cynthia, not Susan, not that random Prussian diplomat named Vladimir Poopin. So naturally, he did what he had to do, which was to punch out the guy with the mic and announce his identity and warn of the plot to capture the prince. 

Behind him, Von Nazi and the Deadliest Man Alive were watching carefully. 

“I reckon we won’t be going forward with the kidnapping?” The DMA mused.

“It seems not! What a shame. All the wasted time cutting out letters for the ransom note!” Von Nazi cried. The Deadliest Man Alive rolled his eyes before stopping short and looking at Curt. 

“Wait a tick. I think I know how to use this American’s lil’ confession to our advantage.” The DMA said. 

“Ahh, I think I see where you’re going. Change of plans, Mr. Deadliest Man. We… uh…” 

“We kill the prince.”

“We kill the prince!” Von Nazi declared. 

The Deadliest Man Alive nodded before shifting positions and taking aim. 

“...And that is why we need to get this man to safety as quickly as possible. Now, I’ve tried to elicit help from both the Americans and the Russians, but both sides refused! It’s almost like they’d prefer it if the prince was-”

_ Bang! _

Curt and the rest of the world could only watch in abject horror as the Prince’s head was blown clean off with one precise shot. 

As the room descended into chaos, Curt could only stand in a dazed state of shock before noticing a familiar figure slinking off in the shadows. 

“Hey! HEY! COME BACK!” Curt screamed, trying to chase the man down, but he vanished in a hurry, leaving only one of his bags behind. 

Curt picked it up and was about to shout again when Tatiana hooked her arm around his middle and started running. 

“What are you doing here?!” Curt shouted, trying to regain his balance. 

“Saving you. Again.” Tatiana answered, “Let’s get you out of here. Do you have access to a safe house?”

That’s when Curt froze. Everything that just happened hitting him all at once. He crumpled to the floor and breathed quick, shallow breaths. He felt too hot and everything was spinning and loud and it was just too much. Everything was too much. 

“Curt…?” Tatiana asked, voice softening. 

“Oh god. Oh _ god _. I blew it. I really blew it.” Tatiana could easily hear the tears in his voice and leaned down to steady him when he started to gag. 

“Curt, stop it! Come on. You don’t have to say anything, let’s just get out of here for now.” Tatiana helped him to his feet and lead him out of the Gala.

* * *

“Barb!” Curt was pacing around the front door when he heard the doorbell.

“Ooh, Curtis. After all those years of never inviting a girl back here, you treat me with two lovely ladies!” Mrs. Mega called, rushing over to hug Barb who smiled and returned the embrace. 

_ “Mom!”  _ Curt groaned. Mrs. Mega held up her hands, “You two probably want some privacy, right? Okay. I’m going to be showing Tati some of your baby pictures. You be good, Curtis. Only choose one.” 

_ “Mom!”  _ Curt cried. Barb giggled. 

“Sorry about her. I wanted to ask you a favor.” Curt sighed once his mother left. 

“Yes, Curt?” Barb asked. Curt handed her a bag. 

“See if there’s any way of tracking the owner of this bag. If you find anything, give me an address or a number or - or something. Okay?” Curt asked.

Barb nodded, “Anything for you, Curt! But, who does this bag b-” 

“I’ll tell you later. Can you just do this for me? Please?” 

Barb gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, “Alright, Curt… first can I see your baby pictures too?”

Curt groaned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's kind of filler. Sorry ^^;


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt does some sleuthing on his own, makes a non-professional phone call, and meets a friend. 
> 
> Things go way off script.

“You worked under those guys, right? Any ideas on why the Deadliest Man Alive let me go against his orders?” Curt asked. 

“He’s always been... an odd case. Despite the unsavory amount of kills under his name and bouts of violence towards business associates...” Tatiana tapped her chin, “It is strange. He has never acted like a ‘bad guy’ towards me, despite his title.” 

“What does that mean?” Curt’s curiosity was piqued. 

“He is kinder to me than most others in his office. It’s easy to tell who he hates. He hates those Nazi idiots. But he does not hate me. He is gentle when he talks to me. He knows of my situation, but does not gloat like the others.” Tatiana explained. 

“Maybe he sympathizes?” Curt suggested. 

Now that the thought was in place, Curt couldn’t get it out of his head. 

“I was thinking that might be the case. He seems to act mostly out of self-preservation, which is why he had me knock him out the time he let you go. I would not be surprised if he was being used by a power even greater than the Nazis.” Tatiana said. 

It was a likely theory, and one that made Curt extra uncomfortable. The DMA had told him that he was just playing the Nazis, but if he was actually being used, then whatever organization controlling him had to be more terrifying than either of them could imagine. 

It was also just sad. The whole situation was sad. 

“I don’t think he was even the original Deadliest Man.” Curt blurted suddenly. Tatiana looked at him with interest. 

“What makes you say that?” She asked.

Curt walked, stumbling a bit without support, to his computer and inserted a hard drive. After some digging, he pulled up his file on the Deadliest Man Alive, “They look different, but no one else in the CIA has gotten close enough to notice.” he said, gesturing to the photograph of the DMA’s head in the file. 

“You’re right. It could be that he was forced into being a replacement, or merely assumed the identity on his own accord.” Tatiana agreed, examining the photo.

“Well,” Curt said hesitantly, “It’s not like this changes anything.” 

Tatiana patted him on the arm, “You can feel bad for someone, but understand that their situation isn’t your fault.”

“He did still murder the prince,” Curt nodded, “Poor guy. I didn’t want him to die.”

“Poor guy.” Tatiana agreed. Poor Prince Feurgin. Gone but never forgotten. 

“Curt,” Tatiana laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “You do know that he’s not your former partner, right? It is just a guess but if you feel like you need to save this man because he’s similar to-” 

“Sorry, I’m getting a call from Barb! It’s private!”

Tatiana was cut off by Curt rushing out of the room. 

“Barb!” Curt nearly screamed into his receiver, causing the woman to scream back at him in surprise. 

“Curt… Curt, I’m here. I figured out who the manufacturer of some of the technology found in this bag and the date it was issued. Then I did some more digging and discovered that when examining the ballistic markings on the gun in here, it was safe to narrow down who the distributor of the weapons were and when I went from there-” Barb was babbling about… something. Something that Curt did not understand and was frankly getting very bored by, so he checked out and let his friend speak until… 

“Curt! Are you listening to me? I’ve whittled it down to one open communication serial number and-” 

“Like some sort of phone number?!” Curt coughed. What…? That… That can’t be right. There was no way. No way at all. But he could practically hear Barb nodding through the receiver (or maybe that was just the sound of swishy hair thwacking aggressively against a watch. Either way…) 

“You know the private network for these kinds of calls, right? I know you wouldn’t be contacting anyone too dangerous but I just can’t help but worry since you’ve given me literally zero information on who you’re so desperately trying to get into contact with and if it’s a girl you like I totally understand but I would wish that you would tell me in advance because as your friend I feel-” 

“It’s a guy! Now can I _ please _ get the number, Barb?” Curt interrupted her. 

“Yes, of course. It’s…” 

Curt was pacing around his living room, fingers hovered over his transmitter. He had been pacing for minutes, mind caught in a storm. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure why he was doing this, or when he had gotten so invested. Well, no, that’s not true. He became invested when he was sure he was on death row and then the guy who was supposed to kill him had a major freakout and let him go instead. It wasn’t anything to do with what Tatiana was suggesting. That would be ridiculous. He was doing so much better now that he was back with the agency. He was doing so much better with his new friend Tatiana, and his old friend Barb, and the informant was there too and he couldn’t exactly call them a friend but they seemed somewhat supportive of him at least. 

But even through his denial, Curt couldn’t help but admit that the Deadliest Man Alive was occupying his thoughts much more than he should be. It was just in his nature to want to save everyone - a messiah complex as his mom had called it - so some mentally unstable British dude was no exception. 

He took a deep breath, and dialed in the code. 

“Sergio, if you’re callin’ abou’ the new bomb then you don’t need to worry. I actually thought that I’d cancelled-”

“Uh, hi. No. It’s actually me.” Curt winced as he heard a loud crackling and what sounded like guttural sputtering on the other line. 

“MEGA?!_ H-How did you-” _the DMA coughed. 

“Oh. It wasn’t me, actually. It was my friend Barb. Want me to tell her you say hi?”

“N-No! What? Wait, di'you take my bag?” 

“Yeeah. Sorry. Spur of the moment thing, I just wanted to clear some things up with you.” 

The line went silent for a moment before the DMA spoke again. His voice steeled and thoroughly steady especially when compared to his slip of composure just moments before, “What things, Mega? What could you possibly wish to discuss?” 

“Well, first of all, we don’t exactly know what you’re planning, but whatever it is, we’re going to stop you. I know that there’s going to be a meeting with the Prussian Prime Minister, and however you’re going to use Von Nazi to do. Something. You won’t be able to do… that… thing. Got it?” Curt tried to sound confident, but it was hard when he had absolutely no idea what he was actually talking about. 

“Oh, so you’ve called t’ warn me? Very kind of you.” The DMA sounded unmoved, “I’m goin' to hang up now. See you tomorrow.” 

“WAIT!” Curt shouted. He heard a small grunt of surprise on the other end. 

“Yes?”

“You said before that your role was the sadistic torturer or something.” 

“Oh, so y'do pay attention to when I speak.” Curt thought he could detect a trace of amusement in the other man’s voice.

“If you’ve been acting this whole time, then who are you really?” 

“I don’ think it would do you well to know, Mega. I think your head would implode, probably.”

_ And you’re concerned about that because you don’t actually want to see me dead, _ Curt thought to himself. 

“So you and who exactly are going t' stop me tomorrow?” the DMA asked, changing the subject. 

“Oh, uh. Me and my team, and my partner, Tatiana. She’s part of the team, obviously.” 

“You… ‘ave a new partner.” the DMA suddenly sounded cold. Maybe even sort of pissed? 

“Is that some sort of problem?”

“I feel sorry for ‘er, is all. You don’ ‘xactly ‘ave, the best track record, Mega. She’s a nice woman an’ working with you is hazardous.” 

“That’s…” 

“Jus’... tell her… to be careful. Warn her not to slip up.” 

Curt’s head spun, he raised his arm so he could be closer to the receiver, “Wait…” 

**“CURTIS HONEY WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO IN THERE?!”**

With a jump, Curt slammed his arm to his side, “Uhh… No one, Mom! Leave me alone!” 

“Are you contacting me from your mother’s house, Mega?” The DMA asked.

“Uh…” 

“IS THAT ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR SPY FRIENDS? WOULD THEY LIKE TO COME OVER FOR A VISIT?” Mrs. Mega called. 

“Oh… oh my god. Mega... “ The DMA’s voice crackled through his receiver, “Mega. You fuckin’ idiot… my god.” 

Curt felt like banging his head against the wall but stopped when he heard completely undisguised laughter coming through his device. He chuckled a bit as well, “This is where I hang up. I hope... never mind.” 

Transmission ended. 

* * *

Mrs. Mega’s safehouse was beautiful. Curt couldn’t be there for his mom nearly as much as he should, and Curt knew that with his job and his sexuality, he could never be the perfect son that she would want either. So, getting his mother a nice place to live with his agency bucks was honestly the best thing he could realistically do for her. 

The sun had dropped, leaving a beautiful starry night in its place. The bright moon reflected in the waves on the pond in Mrs. Mega’s backyard. She wouldn’t ever dare get her feet wet, but Curt wanted something nice for his mother to look at. Because unlike her colorful garden, a pond surrounded by large flat stones and small rocks was a natural luxury - something that would always be there, gorgeous, and guaranteed to stay with no need to put any work into it. 

It had been more than a few hours since Curt had cut his call with the Deadliest Man Alive, and he had distracted himself from that weirdness by making plans with Tatiana on how they would approach the following day. She had promised to meet him at the bar, and didn’t ask why Curt was feeling suddenly so sentimental. But, there Curt lay, on his couch in the family room, gazing out into his backyard and looking at the moon, the stars, and the water; just admiring the way the water gently splashed up against the stony shore and seemed to contrast the shadowy figure of the man who sat and stared into the small sea and… wait. 

There was not supposed to be a shadowy figure of a man in his backyard. 

Slowly, Curt rose from his position on the couch, grabbed his weapon, and stalked out back. 

“How are you here?” Curt demanded, gun raised. 

“Placed a tracker on ya, teensy lil’ microchip right under your skin. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t notice. You really are off your game, aren’t you, Mega?” The DMA replied, tilting his head up to look at Curt, but not moving from his position. 

_ “There’s a tracker inside of me?!” _ Curt asked with alarm. 

“That’s what I said, din’ I?” 

Curt shuddered involuntarily, immediating fighting back panic at the implications. If the Deadliest Man Alive had the location of his mother’s house, then so did whatever crackpot organization he was fooling Von Nazi with. 

“Does anyone else know?” Curt asked.

The DMA shook his head ‘no’, “Only me, Mega.” 

For some reason, Curt believed him, and despite the fact that the Deadliest Man could change his mind and quite literally held his fate in his hands (or some weird little tracking device Curt imagined existed), he felt a breath of relief. 

“Then… why are you here?” 

“Don’t get in my way tomorrow, Mega. I’m not going to hesitate anymore.” was the DMA’s nonanswer. 

“Are you going to kill me tomorrow?” 

“Are you going t' try an' interfere with my plans?”

“Yes, I am.” 

“Then, _ yes_. I am. Lettin' you go was a mistake, an' one I ain' gon' make again.” 

With a sigh, Curt lowered his gun, took another couple steps closer to where the Deadliest Man Alive sat, and took a seat beside him on the rocks. 

“So… you’ve decided… that before all that shit hits the fan… you’re going to chill in my Mom’s backyard at night and stare into some empty water.”

The Deadliest Man Alive gave him a look like he was absolutely fucking stupid, “I knew you would come out here, Mega. I din’ exactly _ hide _ myself.” 

“You’re _ lucky _ I’m still here. I was about to meet up with my friends, actually.” Curt countered sharply. 

“Right. The team that’s going to stop me. Where are your little friends anyways?” 

“Well, they’re actually at a bar. We were gonna do some shots to-” 

“Hold up, Mega,” the DMA interjected, scrunching up his nose, “-Aren’t you an alcoholic?”

“That’s, uh…” Curt struggled for words until it struck him. 

“Are you concerned about me?” He questioned back. The Deadliest Man Alive scoffed and shook his head. 

“Just - just gauging exactly ‘ow much of an idiot you are.” He defended himself quickly. 

“Oh that’s great,” Curt grinned sarcastically before looking back towards the DMA, “So…”

The look that Curt gave him was a simple nonverbal inquiry. 

_ Why? _

_ ... _

_ Why come and see me? _

_ And the Deadliest Man Alive, for all his… personal histories, could read him like a book. Still. _

“Morbid curiosity, I s’pose. Either _ you’re _ gonna kill _ me_, or _ I’m _ gonna kill _ you_. Guess I just wanted to have a real chat with ya one last time before that all happens. Nothin’ wrong with that, eh, Mega?” DMA nudged him with his elbow.

“Neither of us has to die.” 

The Deadliest Man Alive gave a bitter laugh in response and shook his head again, grinning, “You’re somethin’ else, Mega. ‘opelessly naive, that’s what you are.” 

“Yeah, right. Your dumb thing about how we both ‘have our roles to play’ or whatever.” Curt rolled his eyes. 

When the Deadliest Man Alive didn’t respond, Curt looked over at him with a concerned frown. 

“Seriously, man. If you need help getting away, I can-” 

_ “Don’t.” _ The DMA snapped, whipping his head around and glaring at Curt. 

“It’s just - wait… wait, hold on.” Curt puzzled, examining the DMA’s face with concentration. His eyes squinted to see better in the dark. He had never been this close with the Deadliest Man Alive without other distractions before, and now was the first time he was getting a truly good look at his face. 

“What? What is it, Mega?” The DMA startled, tilting his head back a bit from Curt’s intense scrutiny. 

“Dude, your jaw is crooked!” 

The DMA steeled himself, the only expression of his utter bewilderment visible on his face were his raised, then deeply furrowed, eyebrows. “Is _ THAT _what’s really so astonishing to you?”

“Yeah. It is.” Curt leaned forward and without thinking, placed his hand on the Deadliest Man Alive’s jaw. The man shrunk back and glared at him. 

Curt mentally kicked himself. Tatiana was right. 

He’s not Owen. He’s not Owen. He’s not Owen. He’s not Owen. He’s not Owen.

“Sorry, just. It reminds me of someone special to me.” Curt smiled all too kindly. 

_ Idiot _. 

The DMA looked away, expression unreadable, “Yeh? Weird trait to have.” 

“Yeah. It’s not bad, though. Really. I mean, I like it.” Curt rambled awkwardly. The DMA smirked. 

“It reminds me of my old...partner. Owen.” Curt explained. 

The Deadliest Man Alive reflexively straightened his posture to stand up and walk away. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. Not in a million years. But he forced himself, perhaps if only out of a now burning interest in what Curt had to say for himself (and not at all to spare Curt’s feelings, mind you.) 

“Right. The man you kept getting paired with for missions despite being from separate agencies. Some odd sort of business transaction between the CIA and MI6, yeh?” The DMA did his best to sound flippant. Casual. He was talking about someone else - someone long since dead - after all.

“It was more than that!” Curt snapped, “He was e-“

“Calm down, I’m just messing with ya, Mega.” The DMA cut him off, he didn’t want to hear whatever Curt had planned to say. He didn’t think he could stomach it. 

“Well, it’s not funny.” Curt mumbled. The DMA just rolled his eyes and the two sat in a tense silence before Curt broke it again. He was annoyingly insistent on talking about this. 

“It was my fault. I let him die.” Curt said. 

“Yeh, tha’ wa’ in your files too, Mega. I know.” The DMA clutched both hands at the stone he was forcing himself to stay seated on. He turned his head away from Curt again, not wanting to see the other’s face. 

“That’s my biggest regret. So I guess if you kill me tomorrow it won’t be that awful, I mean, if there’s a Heaven then maybe I’ll be able to visit him from Hell sometimes.” Curt went on. The DMA clutched the stone until his knuckles were white. His eyes squeezed painfully shut. 

“I still see him everywhere. I see him in the shadows. I see him a bit in Tatiana. I guess I see a little of him in you too. Sorry,” Curt continued, “I guess it’s just God’s cruel way of messing with me. See the man you love everywhere you fucking turn.” 

“You’re bein’ ridiculous. You can’ expect to believe you actually cared about the man you left for dead.” Curt wondered why the Deadliest Man Alive suddenly sounded so bitter. 

“That’s not true. I didn’t… I didn’t… mean to. I was stupid. And scared. And I’m probably going to hate myself forever, but I never in my life didn’t or won’t care. I can’t not care.”

“I though’ you were over it. That’s why you came out of retirement. ‘Cause you din’t care ‘bout that stuff any more.” The DMA grumbled, still not looking at Curt. 

“No, I thought that since I hadn’t drank myself to death yet, I might as well do something that would’ve made Owen proud - that he would want me to do.” Curt explained. 

“And yet, you got a new partner.” The DMA commented. 

“Yes, but not a new... _ partner_.” 

Another bout of silence. Curt was looking at him nervously, while the Deadliest Man Alive still refused to face him, instead opting to clench and unclench his fingers against the stone and scrape his nails against the surface. 

"Y'know if I were t' leak this information, your entire career woul' be lost, maybe even more than tha'."

"Well, are you going to tell someone tonight? If one of us is dying tomorrow, then your window of opportunity is closing fast."

The Deadliest Man Alive let out a huffed breath, still looking away, "Huh. A'ight, Mega." 

Curt smiled while the Deadliest Man Alive pondered, "It wa' an accident," he repeated. 

"It wasn't on purpose, obviously, why would I ruin my life on purpose?" Curt was taken aback. He didn't think this should be information he would have to reiterate. 

"It wa'... an accident." The Deadliest Man Alive mumbled to himself, barely audible above a whisper. He took a deep breath, his nails scratching harder into the stone. 

“What if... he was alive-“ the DMA began. He turned to face Curt.

“That wou-" 

“-No, Mega. Let me finish. What if he was alive, but he was a bad person? A terrorist or an arms dealer or somethin’ of the sorts. Or he swore revenge on you for leaving ‘im and wan’ed to kill you. What would you do then?” 

Curt laughed like it was a joke. He chuckled and shook his head, probably at the supposed ridiculousness of such an absurd possibility. Owen was dead. Owen was also not a bad person. Maybe a little rough around the edges, maybe a little too trigger-happy on occasion, maybe a little too gleeful when it came to being one step ahead of everyone else. But, he was no monster. Never has been and never will be, even if by some miracle he was still kicking somewhere out there. 

“I’m serious, Mega.” The DMA was not laughing with him. 

Curt sobered up, looking at the Deadliest Man Alive with all his resolve, “If, somehow, that was the case... I wouldn’t blame him at all. I’d just be thankful to every fucking god that he somehow survived my shitty mistake, and even if he shot me in the back, I’d still love him.” 

The Deadliest Man Alive flinched. Even with his mastery of control and acting, he physically couldn’t help himself. He stared at Curt with mouth slightly agape before forcing it closed. He then turned away, rubbed the back of his hand over his face, and turned back to face his... enemy? Companion? Sort-Of-Friends with deathly conflicting goals? It was complicated. 

“How much time do ya got before you’re meeting your friends?” The DMA asked suddenly. 

“‘I got about ten minutes before I have to start heading over... why?” 

The Deadliest Man Alive picked up a flat rock, not much larger than a pebble, and tilted his head towards Curt, “Do ya know how to skip stones?” 

_ Unless he had learned within the past four years... _

“I don’t.” Curt said. 

“Right then. Lemme teach you.” The DMA offered him the tiniest of grins before placing the rock into Curt’s palm. 

Curt looked taken aback for a moment, before chuckling, “Alright, fine.” 

The Deadliest Man Alive leaned forward and explained the science behind the perfect rock throw (What a nerd. Boring.) before finding another good skipping stone and demonstrating for Curt. 

It skipped three times. 

“I didn’t register any of that.” Curt admitted. The DMA sighed and placed his rough hands onto Curt’s.

“Since you’re too dimwitted to do it yourself...” He said with an eye roll before guiding Curt’s hand and helping him throw. 

It skipped four times.

“I did it! I beat you!” Curt grinned. 

“-Not when you had to do it on your own, Mega.” The DMA smirked. Curt laughed. 

“You know, you’re actually really not so bad.” Curt said, thumbing through the rocks until he could find an adequate skipping stone. 

“...You’re not so bad yourself, Mega.” The DMA admitted. It sounded like an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said that this fic would be dialogue heavy because I love writing dialogue. 
> 
> Haha... well...............
> 
> It's dialogue heavy. (But I hope we're all having fun though! :P)


	6. Not So Bad (Reprise)

Curt and Tatiana squeezed together in the closet of the War Room of the New Democratic Republic of Old Socialist Prussian-Sloviskia where an important political meeting was taking place. Tensions ran high and both could only hold their breaths as they hoped that the Informant would be able to seamlessly infiltrate the meeting without getting caught. They could hear Von Nazi faux-sympathetic words to the mourning leaders. Curt could recognize the Deadliest Man Alive’s voice accompanied with the click of his gun as he questioned the Informant and let out a sigh of relief when the Prime Minister vouched for him. Now, all that was left was for the sorrowful leaders to go back to mourning their fallen prince. 

That was, until Curt and Tatiana made out the beginnings of a song and sure enough: Von Nazi was singing again. 

“Your country’s at its knees, time for a reprise - The Nazi’s are not so bad.”

Oddly enough, the song worked. The Prime Minister and Official came around in virtually no time at all, praising Von Nazi and welcoming the Nazi takeover. Curt wanted to gag. 

“We shall begin flooding the populist with Nazi propaganda this very day.” 

“Sir, you’re forgetting about your Nazi super castle again.” Curt and Tatiana heard the DMA interject. 

“Oh, I am so forgetful! Mr. Deadliest Man, I wouldn’t get anything done if it wasn’t for you,” Von Nazi said, “Prime Minister, we believe it is necessary to our new national moral if we announce our presence in a big way. Thusly, we’d like to begin construction of the new Nazi Capitol immediately.” 

“Of course, anything you need.” The Prime Minister agreed. 

“Well, all we need is your signature. Right here on this deed.” The DMA said and the two could hear the sounds of paper being passed across the table.

The Deadliest Man Alive chuckled, “Thank you all. Now… you two might as well come out now.” 

“Who are you talking to?” Von Nazi asked while the Prussian-Sloviskian leaders looked around in confusion. 

“Those two in the closet,” the DMA grinned, “I know you’re in there. Mega, Slozhno.” 

The closet door opened and Curt and Tatiana walked out, guns in hand trained on the Deadliest Man Alive and Von Nazi. 

“That’s right,” Tatiana said, looking at the two Prussian-Sloviskian leaders, “Now go. Get out of here.” 

The two scampered away in fear while the Informant stood up and joined Curt and Tatiana. The Deadliest Man Alive seemed unbothered by the three guns pointed at him and merely stood while Von Nazi screamed at him to go after them. He gripped his knife, looking at Von Nazi as he empathetically pointed to where the Prime Minister and Official had left. 

“Go after them! Go after them!” he whined, before rushing in front of the Deadliest Man Alive, “We just started a very amiable working relationship with them! We need them!” 

“No we don’t, and here’s another thing we don’t need.” In a flash, the DMA’s knife was stabbed into Von Nazi’s back. The man groaned and fell over on his front. Curt knew it was coming, but he still cringed anyways, Tatiana appeared unphased and Susan held their hand over their mouth in shock. Oh right. Curt forgot to tell them about this. Oops. 

“Stabbed in the back… literally… Et tu, Mr. Deadliest Man?” Von Nazi groaned before flinging pocket glitter at him and trying to crawl away. 

“What? No, stop! Stop!” The Deadliest Man Alive rushed forward and stabbed Von Nazi multiple times until he stopped moving. 

He then turned and gave the three an amused but slightly bewildered grin, “He threw glitter at me! I did not expect that!” 

He was the only one laughing, though, as Curt, Tatiana, and the Informant all returned to pointing their guns at him. 

“I though’ you’d all ‘ave better sense of humor. Look at all that effort I put in to get my hands on this little thing!” The Deadliest Man Alive shook his head, still chuckling a bit. 

“A piece of paper?” Curt asked, “I really can’t figure you out, man.” 

“No you really can’t, can you?! I though’ you might, but you can’t!” Suddenly the DMA was yelling, all traces of humor lost. 

Curt kept his gun raised, but took a step back. 

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter now,” the DMA shook his head, “See, a lil’ more than a few years ago, I met someone. He introduced me into a ‘lil group he’d an organizing. He an’ his director… real smart fellows, I’d say. See, they’ve got this plan. They’ve pooled together all their collective influences and wealth to try to create a better world.” 

The Deadliest Man Alive took a step forward, grinning, “We call ourselves CHIMERA.” 

“The fire-breathing creature from Greek Mythology. Body of a lion, head of a goat, and dragon on its back.” The Informant clarified for Curt. 

“With wings and a tail that is a snake.” Tatiana added.

“A lil’ bit of everthin’, innit? You two are quite a bit smarter than that one, yeh?” the DMA chuckled. 

Curt scowled, “This Chimera was what? Funding Von Nazi’s schemes?”

“Oooh, finally catching up with the rest of us, you are!”

“But what use is a Nazi nation to Chimera?” 

“You really wanna know?” the DMA tilted his head and smiled, “Why doesn’ your new partner ‘elp you out with this one? 

“You’re… you’re after the technology.” Tatiana said. 

“There we are, love! An advanced Nazi information surveillance network to collect and archive state secrets! With this,” the DMA raised his hand and waved the deed to the Nazi Castle in the air, “We’ll gain access to the largest wealth of pure, unmined natural silicone the worl’ ‘as ever seen!”

When met with blank stares, the Deadliest Man Alive frowned and raised his voice, “Don’ you all get it? Those stores of silicone beneath the Earth’s crust will allow us to mass produce Von Nazi’s technology an’ deploy his system on a global scale!” 

“You can’t do that! No government would allow that!” Curt yelled. 

“Perhaps no’ at first, but they’ll come around in due time. Everybody likes to do the watching, but nobody likes to be watched. I always found that one funny. Once they realize ‘ow much better the world would be…”

Tatiana shook her head, “You can’t just invade the privacy of citizens without reason or suspicion. We’ll stop you right now.” 

The Deadliest Man Alive laughed sardonically, but his voice continued to steadily raise in volume, “This isn’t some case file you can hold in your ‘ands. The current system is bigger than an entire warehouse or compound. It takes up an entire Island in the Pacific!” 

The three gasped in horror while the DMA continued to laugh. 

“I don’ see the problem, really. This is the future we’re talkin’ about! And this future, this bright future, it’s not goin’ to wait for any of you! For any of us!” The Deadliest Man Alive yelled, “You’re all cavemen, and Chimera - Chimera’s just invented fire! It’s goin’ to save us all. Chimera’s going to create the perfect world for us! Are you really all too blind to see that?” 

Curt swallowed, trying not to show his growing concern, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” 

“Must I spell it out for you? Chimera is going to create a world without agencies - a world without secrets! Imagine… could you imagine living in a world where you didn’t need to hide anything?” The DMA was looking directly at Curt, “Agencies are fallible organizations that don’t value human life. They treat their people like property, putting them in risky situations and not caring about the outcome! Spies are going to be irrelevant once one box can do their job in seconds!”

Curt was shaking his head. The Deadliest Man Alive swallowed, his cockney accent seemed to waver in and out of his speech, oddly enough turning into something more posh before reverting back to normal, “Just listen to me! Once everyone’s secrets are out, no one will need to hide anymore! W-... You won’t need to hide _ anything _ anymore!” 

The man was in hysterics. For a self-described actor who rarely lost his cool, the Deadliest Man Alive was an upsetting sight to see. Both his body and his voice was shaking and his eyes were unnaturally wide. Every part of his body but his face was drenched in sweat.

“Mega, listen to reason!” the Deadliest Man Alive cried, “You said we didn’t ‘ave to kill one another. You wouldn’t be safe in a world where you didn’t support us. If you all agree to stop trying to stop us, then Chimera wouldn’t have reason to go after you.”

Curt startled, “We can’t support this…” 

“Please!” the Deadliest Man Alive begged, “You don’ know what they can do to you. I don’t want you to… I…” 

“Just calm down…” Tatiana interrupted, taking a step forward. This seemed to be the wrong move. 

“STAY BACK!” the Deadliest Man Alive snapped, raising his gun. 

Tatiana took another step forward and the DMA fired a warning shot that whizzed past her head. 

“I know you’re trying to protect me, but-” Curt said, stepping towards the Deadliest Man Alive as well. 

“Shut up!” Another warning shot past Tatiana’s head.

Finally, the Informant cleared their throat, “You know we’re just going to follow you wherever you go, man. Just surrender yourself and let’s make this easier on all of us.” 

“No one will follow me… if they’re too focused on keeping you alive.” the DMA breathed out, and before the Informant could process exactly what had just been said, a bullet struck them in their side. Not exactly lethal, as far as they could tell, but definitely really fucking painful. They fell to the ground clutching their bleeding wound while the Deadliest Man Alive fled. 

Tatiana dropped to the floor and held the Informant, “I’ll handle Susan and the island with Barb. You go after him.” she tilted her head towards the direction where the DMA had escaped. 

“Thank you.” Curt said, Tatiana nodded and watched him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only regret here is that I had to nix the "I KEEP GLITTER UP MY SLEEVE WAKA WAKA" line. So I'm honoring it here. Joey Richter's delivery of "I keep glitter up my sleeve waka waka" followed by "nononono" as he puts the hat over Brian Rosenthal's face is one the most genius, awe-inspiring things I have ever witnessed in all of theatre. 
> 
> Also thanks so much everyone for reading six whole chapters of this! Love you guys!!


	7. One Step Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt chases the Deadliest Man Alive, but he keeps being one step ahead of him.

This wasn’t the first time that Agent Curt Mega had found himself chasing the Deadliest Man Alive, but he had a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that it would be his last. Tensions ran high and the anxiety radiating off of Curt was nearly palpable as he took off running. He caught sight of the Deadliest Man Alive practically throwing himself onto a motorcycle and kicking it into high-gear, leaving a trail of dust behind him. With no time to think, he flung himself onto a nearby motorcycle in the parking lot and quickly managed to hot-wire it.

“It’s time to buckle up, let’s go. There’s an evil power to overthrow,” Curt breathed to himself before twisting the throttle and taking off after the Deadliest Man Alive at full force. The gale force of the wind threatened to pull Curt back as it slapped across his face and rushed through his ears whilst he raced down the streets of Prussian-Sloviskia, chasing down the tail end of a license plate that he had forced into memory through only a glimpse. 

The Deadliest Man Alive must have been aware of Curt’s advances as the frontward motorcycle made a sharp forty-five degree turn, leaving Curt scrambling in the dust. Curt paused to scan the area for any sign of the motorcycle. His attention was lead to some docks next to the end of the street with a shabby building that screamed _ Мгновенная аренда лодок/Sofortiger Bootsverleih/ _ ** _Instant Boat Rental Service_ ** in loud print atop its roof. Curt kicked off of the motorcycle, abandoning it to the wayside, before making a beeline to the docks just in time to see a boat take off across the sea and notice another motorcycle haphazardly strewn across the sidewalk. He cursed under his breath and ran towards the booth, essentially throwing a credit card at the man and demanding whatever “Personal Watercraft” could be offered - price be damned. 

The Baltic Sea splashed onto Curt’s knees as he hopped onto his boat and gripped the steers. Without hesitation, he shoved forward, ignoring all boat-safety laws and probably getting a huge fine in the process. He wove around submerged rocks and pushed strong against the tide, trying to keep his focus on the tail end of the boat ahead. Copying the Deadliest Man Alive’s own movements, Curt was able to predict upcoming hazards and avoid them last minute until the greatest challenge that Curt faced in their impromptu race was of sheer endurance and how willing he was to risk his own safety to catch up to Chimera’s pawn. The Deadliest Man Alive was simply too far ahead of Curt for Curt to ever hope to catch up to him with his current pace, but going even faster would essentially be a death wish. Curt had to weigh his priorities carefully. 

But, of course, he didn’t. The Personal Watercraft’s body shuddered as Curt kicked its engine into overdrive. The boat skidded atop the water, sending Curt’s body in a repetitive course of being lifted into the air and being slammed back down painfully back into his seat. The only thing keeping his body from flying into open space was his white-knuckled grip on the boat’s steer. Water soaked him from head-to-toe as he neared contact with the Deadliest Man Alive’s own boat.

“STOP YOUR BOAT!” Curt screamed, hopefully loud enough for the DMA to hear him. He could taste salt-water on his lips. 

“You’re insane!” The Deadliest Man Alive called back, swerving his own vehicle away from the rapidly approaching Curt’s. 

Curt tried to lift his gun, but found himself unable to hang on with only one hand. He narrowed his eyes and attempted to ram their boats, but the Deadliest Man Alive moved away last second. Curt’s boat struck a rock and he was thrown forward into the war. When he emerged, spitting and coughing, he could see land just a short distance ahead, a parked watercraft, and footprints in the sand. 

He had come this far. He wasn’t going to lose everything now. Making wide scooping motions with his arms and kicking with his legs, Curt propelled himself forward until he met land. There, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath before chasing after the footprints. Eventually, he was lead inside the International Weapons Museum. He shook himself like a dog and fumbled to find a weapon. However, the Deadliest Man Alive was one step ahead. The moment his eyes landed on where the swords were stored, a rush of air alerted him that he wasn’t alone. Swiftly, Curt dropped to the ground and rolled to his side to avoid the strike of a machete. He picked himself up and took a few steps backwards as the Deadliest Man Alive advanced on him. 

“You’re gettin’ the floor wet, Mega.” He chastised, arm raised for another swing. 

Curt leapt away from the incoming blow and grabbed whatever he could find on the wall. His hand gripped onto something quick and the Deadliest Man Alive’s next swing was blocked - machete clashing against shortsword. 

“I warned you,” the DMA growled, taking a few steps back and twirling his machete, “This is your own damn fault.” 

Curt rushed forward, and the Deadliest Man Alive sidestepped away from the sword, “What happened to you, man?” he asked. 

“Don’t try to interview me,” the DMA narrowed his eyes and circled Curt who fell into perfect sync and matched their steps. Each swing of a machete was parried by shortsword and each thrust of shortsword was parried by machete. It was almost like a dance. Something about it made Curt ache with nostalgia. 

When the two stumbled into a room loaded with guns, they didn’t even have to look at each other before simultaneously grabbing flintlock rifles and firing at each other. They both stopped and patted themselves. Unscathed. They looked at each other, Curt fighting back a grin. It was common knowledge in the industry that those things were ridiculously inaccurate, especially at close range. The Deadliest Man Alive turned his head and ran. Curt gave chase once more, following him outside the building. The DMA ran and Curt followed until he couldn’t follow anymore. The Deadliest Man Alive had slipped into a private jet and was about to take off, and Curt was at a loss. He listened helplessly as the engine booted up. Then it dawned on him. 

Rocket shoes. 

In a flash, Curt had launched himself upwards towards the small plane and clung onto one of its wings. The Deadliest Man Alive gave him a look of pure shock as the jet began to move and hover in the air. The jet didn’t get far, as with the imbalance brought on by Curt, it swerved and dipped and skidded on its wheels until the two were racing towards who-knows-where with Curt clinging on for dear life and the DMA trying desperately to make the plane stop. When the jet screeched to a halt, Curt practically slunk off of its wing like a depressed slug while the Deadliest Man Alive just sat there and processed. That is, until he noticed the building that they had stopped just in front of. 

Shakily, he got out of the jet and ran. Curt, running on pure adrenaline, gave chase once more. He didn’t notice where he was headed into until he actually entered the building. They had rebuilt this place? It made Curt feel sick to his stomach, sicker than the dip in the sea or the impromptu plane ride ever could make him feel. 

Curt scoured the vicinity. The day had gone on too long and he wanted to get this over with now. 

It didn’t take long to find him. He was staring at an empty spot on the ground near the body of stairs, expression vacant. Curt had never seen him so still before, it was honestly a little terrifying. It felt like time itself had stopped. The second Curt approached him, the man’s head snapped up and a fist collided with Curt’s cheek. 

“Ah! Jerk!” Curt groaned. Then time resumed. Curt was running after the Deadliest Man Alive, who essentially scurried up the stairs. At the top, his breathing got coarser and as Curt gained on him, he nearly stumbled off the edge. However, Curt reached out and grabbed him before he could fall. He stared at Curt for a moment before shoving him off. Fists flew and collided against every part of the body.

Curt drew back and brought out his gun, pointing it threateningly at the Deadliest Man Alive who took out his gun in turn. Then with a flick of the wrist, shot the gun out of Curt’s hand. The gun clattered away from reach and the DMA advanced, forcing Curt back down the steps of the staircase until he had the complete upper hand. The Deadliest Man Alive jabbed his own gun into Curt’s chest. 

“Time to take your final bow, Mega.”

Despite the gun pressed against his chest, Curt wasn’t afraid. He knew that the Deadliest Man Alive wouldn’t kill him. He trusted him. If the man wanted him dead, then Curt would’ve been shot down the first time they had met and he screwed up the mission with the bomb. If the man wanted him dead, then he would have slit his throat with his machete when Curt was strapped to that chair. If the man wanted him dead, then he would have been shot instead of the Informant - God knows the man had enough precision and skill to shoot down any target of his choice. However, each of the Deadliest Man Alive’s hits were nonlethal, meant to inhibit rather than to destroy. Curt knew that there was a clear method to this man’s madness, and his actions spoke for themselves. 

The Deadliest Man Alive held to gun to Curt’s chest, but he didn’t pull the trigger. Curt knew he wouldn’t. He knew this because he knew this man. He knew this man. He really did. He knew… 

_ “You don’ care about anyone bu’ yourself.” _

He… 

_ “I’m a very good actor, Mega.” _

He knew that the Deadliest Man Alive wouldn’t kill him… Because… 

_ “I can’t do it. I can’t kill you. I need to, but I can’t.” _

Because he… 

_ “What if he was alive, but he was a bad person?” _

Because he was… (Curt’s head pounded in his skull.)

_ “Agencies are fallible organizations that don’t value human life. They treat their people like property, putting them in risky situations and not caring about the outcome.” _

(How could Curt not see this earlier?) He...

_ “Once everyone’s secrets are out, no one will need to hide anymore! We - You won’t need to hide anything anymore.” _

He… he was... 

_ “You don’ know what they can do to you.” _

He was...

**“**Owen.” Curt said, staring up into the man’s eyes. 

It was a statement, not a question. Dark brown eyes stared back down at him and Curt knew exactly who he was talking to. Despite himself, Curt broke into a fragile smile. The man in question was shell-shocked to hear the name. His breathing picked up and he pressed the barrel of the gun into Curt’s chest even harder. Curt wasn’t scared. He trusted this man with his life. 

“Owen.” Curt repeated. The man shook his head at him. He was asking for someone who died four years ago. That person didn’t exist anymore. All the records claimed that person didn’t exist anymore. Chimera said that person couldn’t exist anymore. He was gone. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. 

Curt reached out and gently clutched the man’s upper arm and tugged a bit, “Owen?” 

The man blinked rapidly, then slowly pulled the gun away from Curt’s chest and dropped it at his side. He felt like he was falling with it. 

_ “Hello Mega.” _

“Hi Curt.” Owen said. 

It honestly took every single bit of self-restraint from Curt not to tackle Owen into a tight embrace right then and there, but he held back. He remembered that Owen was working for a terrorist organization, that they were supposed to be fighting to death right now, and most importantly to Curt, that Owen didn’t seem to be in the right mind. Owen Carvour was never messy, he never let his emotions sneak through his disguise, he never slipped up with his accents, and the only times that Curt would see him vulnerable was when they were safe and alone together. But that was Owen Carvour back then, and this Owen had four years under his belt of - what Curt could gather - something real unpleasant that had changed him. 

So Curt opted for slowly retracting his hand and smiling softly at Owen instead. 

“It seems we’re at a standstill. I’m not killing you, and, well…” Curt rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I suppose we are,” Owen sighed, his phony cockney accent was gone, and despite the face not matching the body, he sounded like himself, “Look, Curt. I just… want the world to be better.” 

“And you think Chimera’s going to do that?” Curt asked.

“Of course.” 

“You’re probably the smartest person I know, Owen. You know there are holes. Things aren’t going to change overnight because people don’t have privacy anymore. You really think this Chimera thing is going to work?”

“Yes.” 

“Is that what you thought four years ago?” 

Owen’s eyes darted around before looking back at Curt, his voice dropped to a whisper, “I don’t know. I thought… but… I… I want to believe in my own cause, but it’s... I’m trying. I’m really trying. I’ve been trying for them for years.” 

Curt’s face twisted into one of confusion as Owen knelt down, picked up his own gun, and placed it in Curt’s hands, “Curt. Look, I’ve… I was scared, but I do underestimate you. You can… you can do anything. Attack from afar. Stay out of sight. Don’t be reckless for once. Just… be safe. I’ll come back from the dead and kill you for real if you don’t.” 

“Back from the…” Curt suddenly felt nauseous. He stared at Owen’s gun in horror. 

“Shoot me.” Owen said. 

“No.” 

“Shoot me.” Owen said again. 

Curt shook his head.

“Shoot me.”

“No.” 

“Please.” Owen nudged the gun.

“No!” Curt yelled. 

“Shoot me, Curt.”

“No.”

“Shoot me.”

“No.”

“SHOOT ME! SHOOT ME! SHOOT! ME!” Owen screamed. His voice broke. 

“I won’t!” 

“You’ve already killed me once. Why can’t you do it again?!” 

“Owen…” 

“Please, it’s,” Owen’s shoulders sagged. His voice had quieted down considerably as well. Curt couldn’t remember ever seeing him look so small before, “It’s better for me. If you let me live, I won’t have anywhere to go. The CIA would never accept a traitor like me. MI6 would kill me either way once I’m found, and Chimera…” Owen trailed off, eyes going blank for a moment. 

“Owen?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Curt. I can’t.”

“I’ll fake your death. We’ll make up a story where I killed you and your body ended up somewhere I wasn’t able to retrieve. I’ll hide you.” Curt said, pocketing the gun and grabbing Owen’s hands and holding them in his. 

“That won’t work.” 

Curt squeezed, “Let me try. Please?” 

Owen retracted his hands and stared at Curt for a moment before grabbing at the back of his jaw. Curt’s eyes widened with shock as Owen’s skin peeled off. Okay, no. It wasn’t his skin. It was a mask - thank god. Owen shoved the discarded mask into his bag and Curt couldn’t help but stare dumb-founded at the actual face of his old partner. He was paler than Curt remembered. His brunet hair that he recalled always being slicked back to perfection was frayed and stringy with sweat, there was stubble dusting his cheeks and chin, and there were dark bags under his eyes. Without the mask, it was easier for Curt to see that Owen appeared skinnier as well. He still had plenty of muscle, but had clearly not been fed enough. Curt still thought he looked beautiful. 

“Okay,” Owen breathed, “Okay. We can try.” 

This time, Curt did actually wrap Owen into a hug. Owen’s body tensed, then relaxed. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so his arms just hung loosely at his sides while Curt hugged him.

Curt was wet with sea water and sweat, but Owen didn’t seem to mind.

“If you change your mind, it’s fine. I can put it back on and say you’ve run away.” Owen murmured into Curt’s ear. 

“You’re an incredible actor, Owen, but you shouldn’t have to pretend anymore.” Curt responded softly.

Owen raised his arms hesitantly before wrapping them around Curt’s back and returning the embrace. He could feel Curt smile against his ear when he leaned his head into the crook of his old partner’s neck, and thanked a God that he didn’t believe in that Curt made no comment on the warm wetness of his cheeks. It would’ve made Curt a hypocrite either way, as he squeezed his leaking eyes shut and held Owen close like his life depended on it.

He hadn’t held his partner in four years and he deserved this. It had been one hell of a day. 

“We have a lot to talk about.” Curt mumbled, finally pulling back from the hug. Owen just nodded. 

“Are we going to your mother’s house, old boy?” 

“Yeah.”

“I’ll drive us since you wrecked your boat,” Owen said, grinning a bit, “Idiot.” 

Curt bit back a smile. Owen grabbed Curt’s upper arm and tugged slightly, “Come on, Curt. Let’s get going.”

The two exited the Russian Weapons Facility together. 

* * *

“So, you know my partner Owen who I told you about?” Curt asked. 

“Yes, of course.” 

“You know how I told you that I got him killed four years ago?”

Tatiana nodded. 

“Well, it turns out that he would have died from the fall and explosion, but was saved by this terrorist organization called Chimera, right?” Curt hid his growing amusement as Tatiana’s eyes widened to saucers, “But instead of just, like, saving his life and being cool about it, they decided to keep him locked up and force him to work for them. He’s always been super good at accents, going undercover, fooling the enemy, right? So they gave him this really intricate silicone mask and a machete-”

Tatiana was wildly shaking her head now.

“-And gave him the name of ‘The Deadliest Man Alive’.” Curt said. 

“You’re kidding.” Tatiana couldn’t stop shaking her head, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it was making. 

“Nope. Also, that’s not all.”

“Oh god.”

“Aaaand he’s sleeping in that room over there.” Curt finished. 

Tatiana looked towards the room then back at Curt, “In your report to Cynthia, you said that you shot the Deadliest Man Alive on a boat and he fell overboard into the ocean.” 

“Yeah, just a little white lie,” Curt shrugged, then looked at Tatiana seriously, “We’re _ not _ turning him in.” 

“_Obviously_ _not_.” Tatiana agreed. Curt beamed at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how late this was! Just started school and my academic schedule this year absolutely kicks my ass. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and all the comments and support! I love you guys so much <3


	8. Off-Script 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen adjusts to his new life while Curt saves his world.

The Deadliest Man Alive was confused when he woke up. Horribly, horribly confused. He woke up in a soft bed, first of all, so something was already very wrong here. But whatever it was, he wouldn’t fall for it. 

As stealthily as he could, the DMA stepped out of room and into the hallway to inspect where- 

“Morning, sunshine,” Someone was there, he sounded amused and relieved, “You slept like 16 hours. You… alright?”

He sounded like Curt. 

“Mega?” The Deadliest Man Alive asked, squinting at him. 

Curt frowned. 

Curt… Curt… Right, he knew this place. Why was he at Curt’s safehouse again? Unless that dream he had…

The DMA reached up a hand and felt his face. His_ face. _

“Curt?” Owen asked, in his own accent this time. 

“There we go,” Curt relaxed, “Now come on, I made you breakfast.”

Owen nodded, still trying to comprehend what was happening. 

Curt glanced at the clock, “Actually, I made you breakfast for lunch.”

Owen was silent, mind processing. Then he gave Curt a small smile, “Thank you, love. You’ll be joining me, won’t you?”

“Wouldn’t miss this leakfast date for the world.” 

“It’s brunch, Curt.” Owen was shaking his head, but his little chuckle sounded like Curt’s greatest victory yet. 

Curt told Owen that he was staying with him until they got whatever-this-was sorted out. That meant new IDs, new passports, waiting until whatever files and blackmail they had on him were destroyed by the CIA (Curt knew there was blackmail, he didn’t need Owen to tell him, there was always blackmail.) But he was going to stay out of sight and stay safe and under no circumstance was he going back to Chimera. 

Owen just swallowed and nodded. Truth be told, this was a best case-scenario for him if it were to work. He had missed Curt awfully, and he could love him again without resentment now that he knew the truth, and he’d rather be here - he’d rather be anywhere else - than be sent back to Chimera. The mere thought was enough to give him a case of vertigo. And here? Here was nice. Here had Curt. 

But Owen just nodded, because he couldn’t say ever that, not without Curt finding him needy or weak. 

What he didn’t realize is that Curt loved him too much to ever think him weak and too much still to ever care. 

The first week was rough. Owen barely said a word, instead he’d wander the house like a ghost. Whenever Curt asked him about it, he said he couldn’t believe where he was and had to check to make sure. Curt knew what he meant, he found himself staring at Owen without saying anything. Four years thinking his partner was dead, and suddenly he’s here, alive. Not exactly well, but he’s alive, and they’re living together. Things aren’t the same as they were before, but they were better than they were a month ago. Owen started staring at Curt back, and they’d smile at each other and hold hands to ground themselves, not knowing where to begin so they just didn’t. 

Things got better and they also got worse after a few days. Curt and Owen would talk more. There was less banter between them, and the topic of past romance was carefully skirted around. It just wasn’t a conversation they were ready for yet. 

Sometimes Owen would slip into a cockney accent that took Curt off guard. The problem was that he never realized he was doing it until Curt would helpfully point it out. 

“Hey, Owe? Your accent changed.”

Owen would sputter, sometimes fluctuate between cockney and posh, before excusing himself back to his bedroom where he would sit on his bed and stare at the wall for the rest of the day. Curt would bring him food he wouldn’t touch and try to get him to talk again. Owen always kept his mouth shut. 

Curt stopped pointing it out, but that shift in expression always told Owen when he had fucked up again. 

Owen had lost count how many times he ruined things when he got up to leave again, but Curt grabbed his arm, wincing internally at the way Owen flinched at the touch. 

“Wait.”

Owen waited.

“I liked him.” Curt said.

“You liked who?” 

“The Deadliest Man Alive.” Owen immediately struggled out of Curt’s grip and started heading towards his bedroom door.

“Wait, Owen! I like you too.” Curt said, taking a few steps in his direction. It was such a weird thing to say that it gave Owen pause. 

“I like all of you, Owen. I don’t mind a thing about you, not if it’s you.” 

Owen swallowed then walked back to Curt, giving him a small nod, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, Curt. I already said ‘okay’.” He gave an exaggerated scowl and Curt grinned. 

“Got it. Now please tell me more about your insane uncle.” 

“He was convinced that the ugly little toys he was selling were miniature gods, Curt. He said he used them to attack the president of the United States in a dream where he caused the third World War.” 

Curt doubled over laughing. 

“He ruined my Christmas, you twat.” Owen was chuckling too. 

They didn’t have as many problems speaking to each other after that. 

Over the course of the next week, Owen felt like he needed to confess and apologize for everything. Not anything about Chimera specifically - that was a topic he still refused to delve into - but moreso things exclusive to Curt. 

“I didn’t place a tracker under your skin. I just knew where your mother’s safehouse was.” Owen had confessed one morning. 

“I know, Owen.” 

“Oh, I see.”

It took Owen a few days to bring himself to talk about the torture.

“I’m so incredibly sorry about your tooth, Curt.” 

He sounded terribly sincere, Curt had nearly laughed before stopping himself, “Don’t worry about it. I get to have a badass crown put in.” 

“That’s not a good thing, my boy.”

“It’ll make me feel like a king.” Curt had rested his hand on Owen’s shoulder and Owen had forced a smile. 

He apologized for the rest of the torture the next day and said Curt didn’t have to forgive him. Curt said that he could do what he wanted.

Some of the confessions were weirder than others. 

“I knew you couldn’t skip stones.” 

“It made me mad when the Nazi henchman called you dumb. I’m sorry if I’ve ever implied you were stupid before.”

“I truly do like Sergio. He… well, he reminds me a bit of you, actually.” 

A few weren’t even about him, but Owen felt the need to share anyways. 

“Von Nazi had a puppet version of his uncle that he spoke to. I pretended that I didn’t notice, but I did.” 

“The glitter was genuinely new to me. I didn’t know he kept glitter in his pocket.”

“The original Deadliest Man Alive died about three years ago now. We’ve never met.”

“It was my idea to kill the prince.” He had said this one softly with his eyes trained on the ground. Curt had just nodded, not knowing what else to do. They didn’t talk for the rest of that day. 

The next day, Curt wanted to try something to change up their new, awkward routine. 

“Hey, Owen?”

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you for not killing me.” 

“Well,” Owen gave him a funny-looking grin, “I could say the same to you.” 

“Thanks for not tracking my location.” 

“I didn’t actually have a tracker on me, you know.”

“I thought it was cute how you gave Sergio your autograph.”

Owen tensed, “Curt…”

“What? I wished I could’ve seen that puppet. Thank you for telling me about it.” 

Owen was shaking his head, “You don’t have to do this.”

Curt took his hand, “You don’t have to either. I _ know, _ Owen. I forgive you.”__

“You’re far too soft, Mega.” Cockney accent. Curt squeezed his hand and chuckled.

“Oh, you love that about me.” 

“God dammit, Curt,” Owen’s normal accent was back, he let out a long sigh and swiped his thumb across Curt’s palm, “I do.”

Owen still apologized after that, but not nearly as frequently. 

Tatiana had wanted to give Curt and Owen some time before reintroducing herself into the mix. The moment Curt had called her, pacing around his living room in a panic because _ It’s been 12 hours and he’s still not awake. Owen never slept this late. Oh god, did I somehow kill him again? _That she knew that they both needed some time to adjust to their new situation, Owen especially must have felt like a fish out of water going from Chimera’s living-weapon-slash-errand-boy to man living in a house with his old partner and his mom. Throwing in an old ‘business partner’ straight away would have only made everything even more confusing to process. But once she got the ‘okay’ from Curt, she found herself heading back to that safe house. 

Curt’s mother was the first to greet her, of course. Practically throwing herself at her ‘daughter-in-law’ to wrap her in a big hug.

“Tati! It’s been way too long. I’m sure Curtis has missed you as well, he’s been spending so much time with that polite old buddy of his. British people, you get what I’m saying?” Mrs. Mega squished Tatiana’s face in her hands. 

Tatiana laughed, “It is very good to see you too, Mrs. Mega. And Curt.”

“Should I call him over?” Mrs. Mega asked. 

Tatiana tilted her head to see Curt and Owen sitting on the living room couch, Owen had a book open and was pointing a passage out to Curt who was nodding along. 

“I do not think it will be necessary.” Tatiana waved at them, and the second Curt looked up from the book he was on his feet, running over to give Tatiana a hug. 

“Well aren’t you two just precious!” Mrs. Mega gushed before backing off, “I’ll give you two your privacy. Owen, dear, do you want a cup of tea? Some whitebread?” 

“Very huggy family,” Tatiana murmured, smiling as she pulled away from Curt, “I do not mind it.” 

Curt smiled back at her, “It’s just good to see you. Sorry I’ve been kinda distant.”

“I understand. It seems your mother’s already stereotyped him.” Tatiana was still smiling. 

“Hey, she’s doing her best.” Curt said defensively. Tatiana readily agreed. Her fondness towards Mrs. Mega knew no bounds. 

“May I see him?” 

Curt looked at her for a moment, “I... don’t see why not.” 

Tatiana looked past his shoulder to where Curt’s new housemate was already getting up from where he sat. He stood, looking at her as she gazed at him. They both stared for a few moments before slowly making their way towards each other. 

“Ms. Slozhno…” Owen began, apologies already threatening to spill from the tip of his tongue. 

Tatiana looked him up and down before nodding and reaching out her hand for him to shake. 

“You may call me Tatiana.”

He took her hand and grinned.

“Owen.”

It would only be a few days later that Tatiana would be personally invited back to Curt’s safehouse (She was welcome to drop by whenever, after all.) because Curt had told her and Owen both that he had an important announcement. 

“Oh, this should be good.” Owen had commented, smirking. 

“Oh, it’s gonna be good.” Curt had replied. He had set two seats at the kitchen table where he had set down portfolios containing contents he refused to spoil. 

The moment Tatiana had knocked on the door, Curt was up and ushering her and Owen into their respective seats. 

“To begin, I’m going to make a speech.” Curt announced. 

“Let’s hear this speech.” Tatiana said while Owen covered his mouth to keep from laughing. 

“Right. Here it is. Saving the world is great and all, but I’m sort of sick of pretending to be this great hero that I’m not. The CIA has plenty of talented agents that can help get a handle on the whole Chimera deal,” Curt explained, looking between Tatiana and Owen, “My top priority is just trying to make things better for the two people I care about most in the world.” 

“Oh, Curt…” Tatiana began. Owen’s hands fell to his side, he didn’t feel like laughing anymore. 

"I just thought that since I'm done trying to save the entire world, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to try to save _my_ world instead," Curt motioned for Tatiana to open her folder, “Tatiana, now that you and your family are free, I thought this would only be the most appropriate next step.”

“Curt… these are…” Passports. For her and her entire family. 

“Courtesy of my mom, actua-” Curt was cut off by Tatiana throwing his arms over his shoulders in a tearful hug. 

“Thank you, thank you, Curt.” She said. 

“Don’t thank me, thank my mom.” Curt said, patting her on the back. 

Tatiana pulled away, beaming at him with unshed tears, “But it’s because of you that I had the opportunity to destroy that compound and erase my past. Now that there are no more little birdies to worry about, we are free. My family and I can start with a clean slate.”

Curt smiled gently at her, “Just give me a ring if you’re ever stateside, okay?”

“Will do.” 

Owen looked away, suddenly feeling nauseous and very, very out of place in this scene. This is what he was fighting against. This is what he almost ruined. But he thought he was doing the right thing. That didn’t matter. He didn’t consider _ this _. He felt sick to his stomach. He shouldn’t be here. He had to leave. Why had Curt brought him to this? To mock him? Make him feel worse? He didn’t think it was possible to feel worse but here he was, feeling the lowest fucking scum on the planet because- 

“Owe? You alright?” Curt’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. Was he a fucking idiot? Of course he wasn’t ‘alright’. You don’t sit someone down, remind them ‘hey, you’re a monster!’ and then ask if they’re alright. 

“Hm. Oh, yes. I was just spacing out a tad. My apologies.” Owen answered. Curt was walking towards him, probably to call him out on his bullshit. He put his hand on Owen’s. 

“I know you being stuck here isn’t ideal, but all those bases _ will _be destroyed. You’re going to be free too, someday. When that day comes, I want to make sure you’re prepared. You deserve that much, Owen.” Curt sounded so sincere, too. 

This wasn’t a punishment. He had his mom make him a passport as well. 

He looked at it in astonishment. 

“Curt… I… um…” Owen hated how he struggled for words now, the right thing to say used to come so naturally to him, “Why did your mother name me Theodore Porker? That’s a horrendous name, old boy.”

“So I can call you Ted, of course.” 

“What? Ew. Curt, no,” Owen made a face, “Ted Porker is the single most disgusting name the human mind could possibly conceive.” 

“Teddy.” Curt said. 

Owen gagged.

Curt laughed, “The good thing about us having time is that we can workshop it.” 

“My name’s Vivian Nightingale and I’m perfect.” Tatiana interjected smugly. 

“Oh _ she _ gets the cool name.” Owen dramatically rolled his eyes, then gave a half-sort of smile when Tatiana and Curt snickered. 

“Alright,” Tatiana stepped in between them, “If we don’t have at least one group hug, this whole ordeal has been rendered completely pointless.” 

Curt wasted no time in pulling Owen and Tatiana into a hug, making his arms stretch as wide as they can to capture them both. Tatiana grinned and leaned into the hug while Owen stood for a moment before allowing himself to do the same.

Tatiana could have cut and run the moment she had her passport - she reunited with her family and she did travel - but often enough she found herself back in the US. She’d drop by to say hello to Barb and Susan, but would always return to Curt’s safehouse. His mother was thrilled, and despite knowing that she and Curt would never, ever be together (nor does she want to be anything other than his friend), she happily indulges his mother. She has a soft spot for Mrs. Mega. Curt is always happy to see her, and she’s always happy to see him. She can’t remember having a friend she’d ever felt fonder towards, and she’s more than happy to see Owen too, alive and doing better. Curt had told him he was rather selective in what he opened up about, though. Tatiana thought she could help them both by trying out some common ground. 

“We’re actually not so different, you and I, Owen.” Tatiana said, leaning her elbows against the table and lowering her head. 

“I suppose... that that’s one way of putting it.” Owen replied. He felt a pang of guilt, though, comparing their situations. 

Tatiana had been used when she was at her most vulnerable - a child. Not yet conditioned to the real world. Not yet developed enough to fully be her own person. He, on the other hand, should have known better. He should have been better. He had an option and Tatiana didn’t. 

“...They saved you from the accident in the warehouse, correct? You’d have died from the fall, or the explosion, had they not found you.” 

Owen didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. She was right. 

“It’s hard not to be grateful to the organization that rescued you. Feel obligated to them.” Tatiana’s voice softened somewhat. The intention behind her words clear. 

_ I can’t blame you. _

“They had... very effective ways of getting into your head.” Was all Owen could respond with_ . _He stared at the swirling drink before him, unable to meet Tatiana’s gaze. 

“I don’t doubt it.” Tatiana nodded. Again, she’d been there too. 

Owen actually smiled at her a bit before continuing, “They convinced me that it would be so much easier to just hate. To hate agencies. To hate governments. To hate Curt - to hate the world. And that their global change was going to make everything better. It couldn’t make anything worse.” 

“Sounds hateful.” 

“I did use that word a lot, didn’t I? My apologies for being redundant.” 

Tatiana chuckled. She got up to pour herself her own cup of tea before sitting back down and looking at Owen. 

“It’s not worse than Curt. He’s the one who says that a spy is a spy is a spy is a spy is-“ 

“My god, please have mercy and stop.” Owen dramatically pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched up his face as though he had just developed a migraine. Tatiana grinned in turn and held up her hands as a sign of peace. 

“I still don’t like them, you know? Agencies, governments… I can’t see them the way that Curt does. Not anymore.”

“You do not need to. You are different people with different experiences. But, you do not hate Curt.” 

“I…thought that I should. That’s how they really got me. They helped turn my hurt into anger because anger was so much easier to deal with. It was so easy, too - hating Curt. It was so very simple in theory.” Owen confessed.

“But in practice?” Tatiana already knew the answer. Nothing was ever as simple as it should have been in theory. 

Owen shook his head, “I was too weak.”

“No,” Tatiana reached across the table and rested her hand on top of Owen’s, “You were stronger.”

It was too much, Owen looked away, “You’re far too kind to me, love.”

“Then merely consider this payback.”

Owen turned back to look at her, “For what?”

“An apple.”

“An apple…” Owen repeated, mulling it over. 

“When we were coworkers. I had nothing else but garbage to eat. You gave me an apple and when I asked what it is you wanted from me in return, you said-”

“-For you t’ ‘ave some flavor in your lunch.” Owen finished for her, in that cockney accent he had mastered so well.

Tatiana’s face lit up as she laughed, “You do remember.” 

They talked a lot more after that. 

Curt was glad that Owen and Tatiana were getting along so well, he really was. The two people he cared about most in this entire world had hit it off. 

No, the problem was that Owen was still closed off from him. Curt was trying to be patient and let Owen come to him on his own. 

‘Eventually’, Curt thought, ‘Owen would talk to him about Chimera.’ 

‘Eventually’, Curt thought, ‘Owen would talk to him about what's wrong.’

‘Eventually’ was taking too damn long. 

Sometimes Owen and Tatiana would share long, impassioned conversations with each other on the intricacies of torture and brainwashing. Whenever it sounded as though they were speaking from personal experience, Curt would leave the house and take a walk, feeling sick to his stomach and afraid to intrude on words clearly not meant for him. 

One day, while Owen was on the couch reading, Curt finally asked. 

“What did they do to you?” 

Owen flipped a page, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, love.” 

“Yes,” Curt had to fight to keep the exasperation out of his tone, “Yes, you do.” 

“I’m a bit busy at the moment.” Owen flipped another page. 

“No, you’re not.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“You do! I know you do! You’re perfectly fine talking about ‘it’ with Tatiana!” Curt snapped. 

Owen looked at him aghast, “Well, that’s different.” 

“How?” 

Owen closed the book, but didn’t say anything. 

“How?” Curt repeated. 

“She’s rather... an outsider to the situation. Less attached.” 

“She’s not. You two worked together for months under Von Nazi.” Curt argued.

Owen glared at him, “First of all, I was never working ‘under’ Von Nazi. I was pl-” 

“-You know what I meant.”

“Stop being difficult, Curt. You know why it’s different.”

Curt narrowed his eyes, “I’m afraid I fucking don’t, Owen.” 

Owen winced, “You’re taking this the wrong way.” 

“You still don’t trust me. Is that it? I literally saved you from them and you still don’t trust me.” Curt already knew he would regret the words coming out of his mouth later, but in the moment he just didn’t care. Owen’s jaw clenched. 

“What? So because you got me out of a situation that you,” Owen began before stopping himself and pinching his nose, “That I owe you now? I have to do whatever you say now because you’re my ‘savior’? You’re not, Curt. Taking pity on someone doesn’t make you special. My bar isn’t that low.” 

Curt swallowed, “I got you out of a situation... that I caused. Eventually.” 

Owen froze, “No. That’s not what I meant.” 

“It is and you’re right,” Curt put his face in his hands, “Fuck, Owen. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s... not on you, Curt.” 

“It is,” Curt muttered into his hands, “That’s why you don’t want to talk to me about it.” 

“No, it’s because I know you’d just blame yourself.” Owen sighed, scooting closer. 

“You blame me too. You’re right to blame me.” 

“I don’t. Logically, I don’t. I’m trying not to,” Owen squirmed, “They made me think that you wanted me dead. That you never actually loved me, and just... left me on purpose so that you wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.” 

Curt froze, staring at Owen as if he just couldn’t grasp the very concept. 

“It was just all too convenient to truly be an accident. The blast set earlier than expected, the removal of the guard rails, the banana peel. They say in the industry that the most efficient accident, in simple assassination, is a seventy-five foot fall onto a hard surface," Owen shivered, "If we had been any higher up, I would have died. It would have seemed like an accident. One big set up with flawless execution."

Curt gaped, “But, that’s not true.” 

“I know it isn’t, Curt. Logically. I realized that for myself when you spoke to the Deadliest Man Alive. But it’s still... it’s still a work of undoing four years of misinformation. But, I’m trying. Believe me, I’m trying.” 

“I know.” 

“I just don’t want to cause you anymore grief than I have already.” Owen admitted. 

“That’s not your fault either.” Curt said.

“You’re an alcoholic.” 

“I did that to myself.” 

Owen looked down, “You’re still missing that tooth.” 

“I like it. It’s stylish.” 

“Don’t be stupid. It’s not stylish.” Owen’s lips were twitching at the end. 

A mock gasp, “How dare you! Why don’t you just call me ugly too?”

“I’m trying to lie less. You know this.” 

Curt’s face broke into a huge grin, _ “God, I love you.” _

Owen stared, “...What?”

“Shit,” Curt scooted away from him, “Fuck, Owen. I’m sorry. That just slipped out.”

“So, you didn’t mean it?” Owen sounded hurt.

“What? No! I meant it! It’s just what we haven’t really talked about _ us _and I didn’t wanna push you until you were ready to talk and now I went and made things weird between us again and I-” Curt rambled. 

“I love you too.” Owen said, cutting him off. 

“You do?” 

“Christ, Curt. How could I _ not _ love you?” Owen moved forward, closing the distance between them, “I thought it was you who didn’t fancy me anymore.” 

“Why would you ever think that?” Curt asked. Hadn’t he made it abundantly clear, over and over again to both the Deadliest Man Alive and Owen just how in love he was?

“Because I’m not the same person that I used to be.” 

“Ridiculous.” 

“No, Curt, It’s true. I’m less... fun.” 

“Owen, _ I’m _ less fun,” Curt said, “And it doesn’t matter to me if we’ve both changed. I loved the man you were then and now I love the man you are right now and who you are still becoming. I fall in love with him a little more each and every day.” 

As he spoke Owen leaned in further and further until their lips met and Owen was kissing him, Curt melted into the kiss, deepening it and grabbing the back of Owen’s head, pulling him as close as possible to him. 

When they finally broke apart, Owen gazed at him with the most lovesick grin, idly running his hand through Curt’s hair. Curt grinned back, leaned forward and pecked Owen’s cheek, “This was worth the wait.”

Owen had to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to write a brief little epilogue but then I wrote 15 pages and was like "yeah okay this needs to be edited and split in half" 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has waited, like, almost a YEAR for this chapter. I love you guys. Next chapter will finally be more romantic, that Chimera shit will be discussed in way more detail, and hopefully it'll be a nice conclusion! It will also hopefully not take me almost a year to write! (Haha). 
> 
> I'm writing a series of one-shots that take place in this same universe that will go more in depth on some things mentioned briefly in passing, so hopefully you guys might like that too if you wanna read it! 
> 
> Alright, that's enough rambling from me. Hope everyone's staying safe and healthy in these hard times.


	9. Off-Script 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shit gets unpacked and we reach our conclusion
> 
> tw for torture and owen referring to his time at chimera as his "tragic backstory" like the dumb nerd he is

It took some time, but Curt and Owen slowly began to fall into a comfortable routine. They’d hold hands and kiss when Curt’s mother wasn’t around, and when she was they’d put aside whatever banter they might have had to help her around the house. She’d gotten a job working at an antique store, which offered more household duties to Curt and Owen, who were more than happy to help. They weren’t exactly as close as they used to be still, but they were more comfortable together now. There was less awkward tension. Being hopelessly in love didn’t hurt either. 

Owen had eventually promised that he would talk about Chimera after Curt insisted it would help not only Owen, but bring them to a deeper understanding of each other. Owen gave his word that he would try when he was ready, vaguely wondering when Curt had gotten more wise than arrogant. 

“It helps to talk about things.”

“Who told you that?”

“Tatiana.”

Ah. Now it all made sense.

They were both more thoughtful now, after being on their own separate yet intertwining paths in the years past. They had both been longing for each other in a way, even if one particularly brainwashed party wasn’t even fully aware of it yet. It wasn’t the same as they were before, but this Curt suited this Owen, like they were always meant to change and grow into the perfect match. 

One quiet Sunday afternoon Curt walked into the living room and immediately noticed the stack of fruits, books, and plastic furniture adorning the table. He saw Owen deeply focused on a sketchbook and just stood there for a moment admiring the way he moved the pencil across the paper. The skritching noises were soothing in a way, and though Curt couldn’t really make out the drawing, he found the movements quite mesmerizing. He walked behind the couch and leaned most of his body weight against it. Owen must have felt the slight shift because he looked back and smiled at Curt for a moment before resettling his focus. 

After a bit of time, Curt started growing bored and decided to make some conversation. 

“Remember the pet names we used to have for each other?” Curt asked, looking over Owen’s shoulder to glance at his drawing, to the little still-life on the table, and back, “That’s really good, by the way.” 

“No, I forgot,” Owen replied sarcastically before huffing out a laugh, “Thank you.”

“Let’s see, I used to call you: babe, baby...” Curt began. 

“God, so American.” Owen said. 

“Don’t be rude to me, babe.” Curt chastised, enjoying the sound of Owen’s quiet laughter. It felt incredible to finally be able to talk about their history like this, and the feeling of being able to recall past pet names was unmatched by the joy of being able to use them again still. 

“Sorry, honey.” Owen replied coolly, not looking up from his sketchbook. Curt beamed.

“Honey’s always been a good one,” Curt mused, “But kind of embarrassing.”

“You are rather sweet, though.” 

“Babeeeeee.” 

“I’m only telling the truth, darling.” 

“That was slick.”

“Thank you, love.” 

“You’re welcome, angel.” Owen nearly dropped his pencil and Curt bit back a laugh, “That one still gets you, huh?”

“Oh, shut up. You only brought up pet names to drop that on me in the first place,” Owen shot up, dramatically flinging his sketchbook into the still-life and toppling it over, “This was a set-up, a ruse! He says he’s done with sneaking around, but alas, it was all but a facade.” 

Curt laughed, then when his mother ran into the living room to see what all the ruckus about, he laughed harder. Owen pressed his hands to his mouth, his eyes twinkling. 

“Owen, I had so much hope for you being the mature, grounded one.” Mrs. Mega scolded. Owen smiled at her apologetically. 

“Have I officially lost that title, ma’am?” He asked. 

She strode across the room and kissed his forehead, “No, but you’re on thin-ice, dear.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Owen grinned for a moment before collecting the ruined still-life and putting each part back to where it belonged in the house. Curt was too busy laughing his ass off to help. When Mrs. Mega left, Owen turned to Curt, mischief in his eyes. 

“What was so funny, doll?” He asked, then it was his turn to laugh when Curt blushed. 

It wasn’t too long after pet names were reintroduced that Owen had abandoned his guest bedroom to sleep besides Curt instead. They’d spend the nights sleepily talking about nothing of importance, idly playing with each other’s hair, or mindlessly drawing little pictures on each other’s arms with a finger. When they woke up the next morning wrapped in each other’s arms, neither raised any complaints.

“You know, babe. It used to be me who was always in bed first.” Curt said flippantly one night, crawling in bed next to his partner and sitting up, playing with a button that fell loose from the blanket.

“Well, I…” Owen began. He took a deep breath, “It’s a bit of a luxury for me. See, in Chimera, I was…”

Curt’s movements stilled completely while Owen fumbled a bit for words.

“I wasn’t allowed to sleep.” 

“What?” 

“I wasn’t allowed to sleep when I needed to. I wasn’t allowed to eat, drink, or use the restroom either. I was kept on a, erm, very bare minimum schedule.” Owen explained, sitting up and looking at Curt. 

Curt looked back at him. Okay. They were really doing this. 

“You had a scheduled time for everything that every single human being just needs to do?” 

“I wasn’t really a human being.” Owen said. Curt winced at that. 

“What was keeping you from disobeying?” Curt asked. 

“On good days they would just beat me up. On bad ones they would, um, forcibly inject me with insulin. I was already so hungry and it,” Owen shook his head, “...It  _ hurt _ and the worst part was that I couldn’t move. They’d set me on the floor while I was in pain and leave me alone and I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything. They’d just leave me there and I couldn’t-“ 

Owen was shaking his head rapidly now, his breaths turning quick and shallow. Curt lightly tapped his wrist to get his attention, “Owen, hey. Breathe me for me, okay? Can you try breathing through your nose?” 

“I can’t do it again. I don’t want to. Please don’t make me.” Owen choked out. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Curt said, when Owen just kept shaking his head he asked, “Where are you right now, Owe?”

“Compound.” 

“Love, you’re in my safehouse, remember? You’re on the bed we share. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re  _ safe _ . I’m right here with you. I’m not going to leave.” 

Owen’s clammy, trembling hand slowly found its way on top of the bed’s covers. He grabbed a fistful. 

“Where are you, Owe?” Curt gently asked again.

“A bed…” Owen’s breathing started to steady and he looked at Curt with glassy eyes, staring at him for a while before asking, “...Curt?” 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Curt said, relieved, “I’m here, Owen.”

“Curt, I… I’m…” A sob ripped itself from his throat. 

“Owen?” Curt startled for a moment, then gently placed a hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t flinch, Curt wrapped his arms around him and pulled Owen towards him in a tight, protective embrace, “Oh, baby… I’m right here. It’s okay, angel. It’s okay.” 

Tears streamed down Owen’s face as he cried into Curt’s shoulder, his entire body trembling. Everything that he had been holding in from beginning to end was being released all at once in a turbulent outpour. His hands gripped tightly at Curt’s back, clutching onto him like a lifeline. 

“I… I…” Owen tried to speak, but his words were strained and broken, cut off by his own choked sobs. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re okay...” Curt shifted their positions a bit and stroked Owen’s back. He whimpered, then slowly started to relax into the soothing touch. 

Eventually Owen’s body fell slack, his grip on Curt loosened, and the trembling subsided. 

“I’m sorry, Curt. I really wanted to talk to you tonight.” Owen said eventually, sniffling. 

“I know, angel,” Curt moved his hand from Owen’s back to his cheek and thumbed away what remained of his tears. Owen’s eyes fluttered closed. 

Curt shifted their positions again so that Owen’s head was laid atop his chest, “Do you hear my heartbeat, love?”

Owen gave a small nod.

Curt ran his fingers through Owen’s hair, “Then you know I’m right here. I’m going to be here for as long as you want me. You’re not going to be alone again.” Owen looked up at him with an expression that broke Curt’s heart all over again.

Owen felt lightheaded. He felt completely drained. 

...He felt freer than he had in over four years. 

“I’m tired.” Was all that Owen murmured. 

Curt smiled softly, leaning down and kissing the top of Owen’s head, “Sleep well, baby. I love you.” 

Owen mumbled a semi-coherent loveyoutoo before he was out like a light. 

Curt blinked away his own tears, wrapping his arms around his sleeping partner as if trying to shield him from any more suffering the world might try to give him.

Curt woke up the next day to his partner struggling out of his arms. He blinked awake, groggily watching as Owen sat up and made to get out of bed. Curt gently grabbed his arm, “Someone needs to pee.” 

“I need to leave. Right now.” Owen said abruptly. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” Curt was fully awake now. 

“I was in a bad state last night.”

Curt nodded slowly. He still didn’t see the problem. 

“You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It was pathetic.” 

Oh. Now Curt saw the problem. Curt shook his head and started pulling Owen back towards him, “I’d never look down on you, Owe. You know you’re allowed to have feelings, right?”

“It’s shameful.” 

“It’s not.” Curt argued.

“It is.” Owen argued back. 

Curt pressed his lips together into a thin line before sighing, “Owen, can I tell you something?”

Despite their brief little spat, Owen immediately softened, “Yes. Anything.”

“I used to see you everywhere. Owen, I would hallucinate you. I’d get these... flashbacks... I’d see you in the back of my mind and it would startle me so bad, every single time, that I would just freeze. I’d completely disassociate, hell, sometimes I’d even call out your name just for there to be no response.” 

Owen looked at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes lit up with recognition, “Oh! That’s what you were doing?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You don’t remember? After, you know,” Owen shifted, “I, uh, untied you and helped you to your feet. You stared at me and said my name.” 

“I did, didn’t I?” 

“You did.”

“My incredible foresight...” Curt grinned, Owen nudged him.

“I hadn’t heard that name in four years. It startled the hell out of me.” 

“Well, all I remember after that is waking up in an elevator in Monte Carlo. What happened?” 

“I was a bit panicked, so I...” Owen gently rapped his knuckles against Curt’s forehead, “...But with the dull end of my machete.” 

“Jesus, Owe.” Curt mumbled. Owen smiled innocently at him. 

“Better than stabbing or shooting you, love.” 

Curt shook his head, biting back a smile, “That is a very low bar.” 

Owen snorted. 

“Okay, but what I’m getting at, Owen,” Curt said, softly tapping his forehead back, “Do you think any less of me? That I get flashbacks and freeze up? Or that I’ve used alcohol to ground myself when I feel like I’m not in my own body?” 

Owen stilled, “No, love. Of course not.” 

“You’re not ashamed of me?” 

“No!” Owen cupped Curt’s face, “Never. You are the bravest, kindest man I’ve ever known, Curt. I’d never look down on you for - for having feelings. You’re only human.” 

“Okay,” Curt grinned softly, leaning into the touch, “Owen?” 

“Yes?” Owen stroked his cheek with his thumb. 

“The same applies to you. I don’t think I could look down on you if I tried.” 

Owen smiled sadly, leaning forward and kissing Curt’s hair, “Right, I... apologize for being difficult.” 

“I thought I told you to stop apologizing so much, but,” Curt smiled, “Accepted, nonetheless.”

“Curt, do you think that maybe…” Owen slowly pulled back, “We could try a repeat of last night? I mean, I’d like to, I think. If you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Owen, I do not mind a single word that comes out of your mouth.” Curt’s response was automatic. 

“Now that’s just not true in the slightest, is it?” Owen chuckled. Curt paused as if to truly think about it. 

“Hmm, no, yeah, it’s true,” Curt said with a nod, “How obnoxious you can be doesn’t really matter to me anymore. Four years without that smart mouth was breaking me far more than any snarky comment you could ever make, limey bastard.” 

“Sap.” Owen was blushing. 

“You love that about me.”

“I do.” 

Owen pecked Curt on the cheek, “Can we have some leakfast first, love? I’d rather not spout exposition on an empty stomach.” 

“You mean brunch?” 

“No.” 

Curt grinned, “Leakfast it is, then.” 

“Alright,” Curt said, crawling into bed, “Before we start, we need to get into our battle positions?”

Owen crawled next to him, “Curt, honey, darling, love of my life. What on earth are you talking about?”

Curt pulled Owen into his lap and wrapped his arms around him, “Battle positions,” he repeated. Owen smiled. 

“So, where do you want to start?” 

“I was thinking the beginning, Curt.” 

“Beginning’s a very good place to start.” 

Owen shot him a look somewhere between puzzled and fondly amused before leaning into his partner and letting out a small sigh, “You remember that when I fell, next to the floor was a half shut barricade?”

Curt swallowed.  _ You tried to relock them all, but I stopped you.  _ He just nods. 

“And the tactic we used? Small bombs on the lower levels to trigger a massive explosion on the upper ones, razing the building? I had fallen to a lower level. I couldn’t move, but when the building exploded, the barricade took most of the blast for me.”

“But… the building...” Curt said softly. Owen knew what he was referring to. 

Owen nodded mutely, eyes faraway before picking it back up, “It was even harder to breathe after the blast and I was passing in and out of consciousness. If I had to guess, the part of the staircase above me fell in a rather… miraculous manner. It must have caught the debris that would have otherwise done me in.” 

Curt was on the verge of tears, his grip on Owen tightening. 

“My own little stair shield…” Owen tried to joke. Curt sniffed. 

“Should we stop this, love? We don’t need to do this.” Owen tried, voice barely above a whisper. Curt shook his head. He needed to hear this. He had to know.

“Okay, should I…” 

“Please, Owen. I want to hear.” 

“Okay, um. I was passing in and out of consciousness. I couldn’t move. It was dark and hot and everything hurt,” Owen’s voice never raised in volume, he considered leaving certain parts out to spare Curt, but Curt would have known and Owen would have felt guilty and repressed, “I was terrified. I  _ felt _ myself dying and I couldn’t do a thing. I remember that when I blinked back into consciousness, the air started to cool. It got lighter - rubble being removed, I suppose. I felt someone lift me, heard shouting but I couldn’t make out what was being said. I had hoped it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Curt mumbled. 

Owen placed his hand on top of Curt’s in lieu of a response, “I woke up in the hospital wing of the compound I would call my home for the next four years. They nursed me back to health, essentially. I would have died in that wreckage or of lasting untreated damage if not for them. I… I thought it so kind, so gentle… them going out of their way to save a stranger’s life like that. But then when I was mostly healed, they…”

“Owen?” Curt asked tentatively as his partner began to space out. Owen blinked a few times, then took a deep breath and squeezed Curt’s hand as an apology.

“Owen…” He repeated the name, “They didn’t call me Owen. They didn’t even call me ‘Carvour’. It was just nothing. I didn’t have a name for years, until they started calling me ‘The Deadliest Man Alive’, that is.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Nothing,” Owen’s shoulders sagged, “Worse than that, they said I wasn’t a spy. A spy wouldn’t have slipped up like that. I wasn’t a man either. Men don’t call out the name’s of other men when they’re delirious,” Curt opened his mouth to say something then slowly closed it, “What I was doing before was wrong too. How much about MI6 did I really know? What was I even fighting for? And, Curt, it sounds foolish but reassuring yourself can only do so much when everyone around you is telling you otherwise. I wasn’t Owen, I wasn’t a man, I wasn’t an agent, I wasn’t fighting for anything. I was horribly confused. I didn’t know how I could be absolutely nothing, but I was. I was nothing.”

“You’re not nothing.” Curt said firmly. The implied  _ you’re everything to me  _ lingering in the air. 

“I…” Owen wrapped both his arms around Curt’s left arm, leaning into the side of Curt’s chest like he wished he could just disappear into it if he only tried hard enough, “Then everything I did was wrong. I was evil for working for an agency like MI6. I was pathetic for losing my balance and not being able to help myself. I was taking too long to heal. I asked for too much water. I ate too quickly. I whined too much. I talked too much and then too little. Not smart. Not funny. Not kind. Not good. I was bad. I was so bad. I was so bad that you left me. You had to rid yourself of me l-like I deserved. Th-this h-human plague-” 

“Owen.” Curt interrupted him, wincing when he felt Owen flinch. He gingerly brushed a sweat-stuck strand of hair off of his forehead, “Owen, baby. First of all that’s not fair to you. Secondly, you’re not bad. You are the best man that I know, and it’s not just the loving partner in me saying that. Ask my mom, ask Tati… everyone who knows you falls a little bit in love with you and there’s good reason for that. Hell, even Cynthia would get soft whenever you were brought up.  _ Cynthia _ , Owe. And thirdly, I would never, not once in a million years, prefer to live in a world where you weren’t by my side.”

“I-I know. I know, Curt. I know you weren’t trying to kill me, it’s just… I don’t know,” Owen mumbled, feeling tears slipping out of his eyes but not even bothering to hide them from Curt anymore. He had felt himself spiraling and he just let it take him instead of collecting himself like he should have and he looked stupid in front of Curt. Stupid, Owen.  _ Stupid _ . “It was stupid of me, really, for believing you ever would.”

“Was Winston stupid when he agreed that two and two made five?” Curt asked. 

“...No, but it was sad how Winston and Julia both betrayed each other.”

“Do you remember the ending, Owen?”

“I read it a while ago, were we not just discussing the ending?”

“Only what came before it. In the end, Winston and Julia see each other again but feel nothing. His love for her has been destroyed, replaced with reverence towards Big Brother. Winston finally accepts the Party completely.” 

Owen closed his eyes for a moment, taking a moment to breathe before opening them again, “I love you, Curt.” 

“I know, angel. Me too.” 

Owen rested his head against Curt’s chest, letting his heartbeat calm his nerves enough to continue, “They eventually made me, um, denounce you - for lack of better terms. I-I still remember it so clearly. There’s a lot that I’ve blocked out, Curt, but I remember that moment. I didn’t have a solid grasp on time, but it must have been days since I was last allowed to eat. Over a day since I was allowed to sleep. And they held th-that needle right in front of my face and I knew how bad it would be. So I said everything they wanted me to say. No matter how it went against what I thought my morals, my loyalties were, I still- I-” 

Curt just nodded, giving Owen a minute to steady his breathing. 

“I… broke down then, in front of them. It was mortifying. I’d never felt more alone in my life. Completely lost without a single direction of who I was or what I was supposed to believe in, just that everything I used to have faith in was a lie. It was the most despairing feeling. Hard to describe,” Owen swallowed, “Then they walked out, and I was alone again. But soon enough one of the agents came back with a piece of bread and some water. He gave it to me and didn’t make fun of how quickly I ate it.”

Curt frowned at the lilt in Owen’s voice, he was debating saying something when Owen beat him to it.

“I know,” Owen whispered, “I know it wasn’t genuine kindness. I know I was being manipulated. But it was huge to me at the time. It was the first time I’d been shown any semblance of decency in over…”

“Over…?”

“...Two and a half years.” 

Curt tensed, feeling like all the wind had just been knocked out of him. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls until his knuckles bled. He wanted to drink. Drink, and drink even more until he passed out. But he can’t do that, not to Owen. Not when doing so would hurt his Owen. 

Sensing Curt’s horror, Owen gave his hand another squeeze and continued a bit more briskly. 

“They got better towards me, slowly. I was allowed to eat more, sleep every night, use the restroom whenever I needed. I was beat less, insulted less, and the needle was put away. All the while they kept filling my head with rhetoric. When I was hating and blaming you, I felt like I was actually in control of myself for once. Being righteously angry is much more empowering than feeling devastated and unwanted. Then they offered me a name, a mask, and a purpose.”

“The original Deadliest Man Alive died around three years ago… A couple months ago you told me that.”

Owen nodded, “It was simple. You tried to kill me and you were still only a piece of the puzzle in the deeper problem that was agencies, which in turn were a product of a corrupt government. When I was an agent I was just as bad as you, but Chimera? They could save me. They could help me be good again. So I accepted their offer and rehearsed that role to perfection. Damn, Curt. I should have been an actor instead.”

“You’d win an Academy Award.” Curt huffed out a sad little laugh.

“I was… so sure of things, finally. I thought I was finally,  _ finally, _ making the right choice. But then,” Owen’s accent shifted, “I saw you, an’ against all protocol, I talked to you. You reached out to me. You tried to help me an’ I realized tha’... it was a lie. It was all…” 

Owen’s voice broke as his accent shifted back to normal, “...a lie. And knowing that you never hated me meant that I couldn’t hate you either. I kept trying because I didn’t think there was anywhere else to turn, but the spell was broken.  _ You _ broke it.”

“I…” Curt’s voice came out choked, tears budding his eyes. 

Owen leaned back and sat upright, so that he was face to face with Curt now. His own eyes stung with tears as he reached out and tenderly cupped Curt’s face, “Thank you.” 

Curt instinctively leaned forward to kiss him, but Owen held his face in place. 

“Owen?”

“Curt, I… In that year I was the Deadliest Man Alive, I’ve done a lot of things. Horrible, shameful things. Retrieving the Prussian deed wasn’t my first mission and you weren’t the first person I’ve tortured, just the first I couldn’t bring myself to kill. I-I’ve blocked a lot of it out, it just comes to me in nightmares, but all I know is that I never once disobeyed an order. You need to be aware of that.”

“I’ve always been aware of that, Owen. Look,” Curt sighed, “I’m not condoning the things that you’ve done, but I’m telling you right now and I will repeat as many times as you need to hear it: You were not in your right mind. It’s not your fault you were manipulated. I forgive you. Okay? I forgive you.” 

Curt thumbed away the tears that began to flow down Owen’s cheeks, “You’ve suffered enough, baby. It hurts me when you punish yourself like this.” 

“I’ve missed you so much.” When Owen’s words came with a rough sob, Curt threw his arms around him and pulled him close. 

“I’ve missed you.” Owen mumbled again, melting into the hug. Curt grinned despite himself, “God, I missed you too. So much.” 

Curt pulled back, gazing at his partner intently, and Owen didn’t stop him this time when he leaned in for a kiss. It was gentler than usual, but neither seemed to mind. It was just what they needed. 

“This was a lot, huh?” Curt said, tucking a strand of hair behind Owen’s ear. Owen nodded his agreement, he looked tired. 

“You wanna go watch a dumb movie in the living room? Then we could just order-in for dinner.” 

Owen stretched and scooted off the bed, extending his hand for Curt to take, “I like the sound of that plan, love.” 

Curt smiled, got out of a bed, and took it, “Let’s get going then.” 

A few months later when Tatiana showed up on their doorstep, claiming she had important news, there was a collective panic. When she laughed and claimed it was good news, Curt immediately rushed forward to hug her and invite her inside. 

“Mom, look who’s here!” Curt shouted, and it took only a moment before Mrs. Mega came barreling down the stairs. Owen had only a few seconds to jump back out of her way as she crashed into Tatiana, squealing with pure unfiltered joy. 

“Tati, Tati, Tatiiii it feels like it’s been forever since you last visited us. How’s your family, sweetie?” 

“They are doing very well. I was thinking it would be nice for you to meet my mother one of these days.” 

“I would LOVE to, dear. Bring her over sometime, why don’t you?” 

“I will.” 

“You and your family should come over for Pesach! Oh, Curtis. Isn’t that a brilliant idea? Why didn’t you think of that?” 

“I don’t know, mom,” Curt turned to Tatiana, “If your family doesn’t have any spring plans, we would love to have you over.”

“I would be honored, Curt.” Tatiana said, smiling towards Mrs. Mega as well. 

“Oooh, let me make you kids some food. What do you like to eat, Tati? Salad? I’ll make you guys salads. Owen, I’m gonna dress your salad for you, okay, sweetie?” 

Owen smiled politely while Curt and Tatiana held back laughter, “Sure, ma’am.”

“Good boy. I’ll call you kids in when it’s ready.” Mrs. Mega said, shooting Tatiana another fond smile before disappearing into the kitchen. 

“Your salad is going to be drenched.” Curt said and Tatiana giggled. 

“I’m aware, love.” Owen said. 

“Curtis, tell your friends that their salads are ready! I just got a call from Janis, so I’ll be in the office!” Mrs. Mega called, loud enough for everyone in the house to hear. 

“My mom says your salads are ready.” Curt said, biting back a grin. 

“Thank you for relaying the information, Curt.” Tatiana said. 

“Dare I say your finest work yet, love.” Owen added. 

Curt rolled his eyes and led them into the kitchen. Three bowls of salads, two with dressing on the side and one completely drowning in it. Owen took his rightful place at the table. Curt sat next to him, sharing eye contact with Tatiana who sat across as they tried not to laugh. 

It was Owen who broke first, erupting into laughter and burying his face into Curt’s arm to smother it. His shoulders shook as he continued to giggle, Curt laughing now too and Tatiana watching them with a chuckle and a huge smile. 

“I love your mom.” Owen said, leaning back away from Curt and wiping at his eyes, “God, I love your mom.” 

Curt grinned, “She only has your best intentions at heart. Wanna switch bowls, babe?” 

“And deny this gift from her? Never, you monster.” As if to prove his point, Owen ate a mouthful right in front of him. 

Curt cringed, “That cannot taste good…” 

“You two are getting along well.” Tatiana stated, and it was true. The last time Tatiana was there, Curt and Owen were still carefully skirting around the subject of their past romance, much less together. Beyond that, they both seemed more comfortable - with each other and with themselves. Tatiana had seen Curt as his confident, hopeful self before, so she especially noticed the difference in Owen, who was less reserved and whose smiles no longer were being so obviously forced. It felt nice to see her friends like this. 

“Were we fighting before?” Curt asked.

“Well, we  _ did  _ fight before.” Owen pointed out, giving Tatiana a crooked smile. 

“Barely.” 

“ _ Not  _ barely!”

“‘Tha’ Mega is such a dreamboat, ‘ow could I e’er bring myself t’ kill someone so wonderful.’” Curt said, attempting to mimic the Deadliest Man Alive. Tatiana raised an eyebrow while Owen shot him a look.

“You sound  _ Australian, _ Curt.”

“Cuuuurt. You sound Australian. You’re sooo bad at accents.” Curt was trying to imitate Owen’s normal voice now. 

“Darling, you’ve raised my voice up at least three octaves.”

“No I didn’t. You’re completely exaggerating.”

“Of course I am, dear,” Owen grinned, then leaned forward and mock-whispered to Tatiana, “Just between you and me, I’m not. He totally did. Typical Curt.”

Curt pulled Owen back and scowled at him, “Typical jerk!”

“Ooh, sick burn.” 

Curt went to wack Owen with his fork, but Owen quickly blocked it with his own, causing them to start a mini sword fight with the utensils they were supposed to be eating salad with. Tatiana shook her head, how Mrs. Mega survived in this household she had no idea. 

“Do you two want to hear my news or not?” Tatiana asked. Curt and Owen looked at each other and then put their forks down. 

“Good,” Tatiana began, “So I’ve been in contact with Barb and-”

“Barb hasn’t contacted me!” Curt interrupted. 

“That is because you are on Cynthia’s shitlist and she is not allowed to.” Tatiana said. Curt let out a little ‘aw’ while Owen cringed sympathetically. 

“...Chimera is on its last legs. Barb estimates that the last few bases are to be eliminated within the coming month.” 

Owen dropped his fork on the ground, and made no move to pick it up. He stared at her with his mouth slightly agape. Curt slammed his fork into a leaf and looked at Tatiana. She could practically see the gears whirring in his head. 

“But how? I mean, I thought - I think  _ everyone  _ thought that it would take years, at  _ least!  _ This is… Holy shit…” Curt said. Tatiana glanced at Owen, who broke out of his shock all at once. He scrambled to pick up his fork from off of the ground. 

“Data mining bits from the island Barb and I blew up in the Pacific lead the team to the locations of the rest of the compounds spread across the world,” Tatiana explained, she looked at Owen again, “Thank you for the tip.” 

“Wait, what?!” Tatiana could see the gears turning in Curt’s head again.

“A backup,” Owen said quietly, “Incase I couldn’t convince you to join me. You wouldn’t be safe in a world where you didn’t support us, so I wanted to give you a chance.” 

“A good spy doesn’t just reveal the location of an important base. Once you revealed to me who the Deadliest Man Alive actually was, I had Barb and her team scour that area again.” Tatiana said. 

Curt stared at Owen in shock, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“When I made that decision, it was because I expected you to find and kill me.” Owen said, voice steeled so as not to betray any emotion. 

“But I, I - What? Even before I knew you were you, how could you think that I-”

“I don’t know, Curt. Maybe because five years ago it was exactly our job to murder people who got in our way?” Owen pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s-” 

Tatiana cleared her throat, suddenly looking very awkward, “There’s, um, more. I’m sorry.” 

Curt looked at her, “Why are you apologizing? I thought this was all good news.” 

“It is, but,” she looked away, “In the Russian compound they just destroyed, there were tapes.” 

“What kind of tapes?” Curt asked. 

“Experiments involving torturing their prisoners with insulin shock. Barb was… very distressed over them,” Tatiana said carefully, “We both agreed they should be destroyed. No copies were made. No evidence of it remains. She has reasoned that there was no possible outcome where the victim survived.” 

Owen stood up.

“I didn’t watch anything.” Tatiana said.

Owen shook his head, “I need to go.” 

“Where are you going?” Curt asked quickly. 

“I don’t know, Curt, outside?!” Owen snapped before wincing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I won’t wander too far off, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

“I’m sorry, Owen. I thought you deserved to know.” Tatiana said. Owen softened, her guilt was infectious. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Tatiana. You don’t have to worry.” 

“It is difficult not to worry about a close friend.” 

“...Right.” Owen sighed, he gave Curt and Tatiana a tired (forced, she noted) smile before slipping out through the back door. 

“I should go after him.” Curt said, already moving when Tatiana gently grabbed his arm. 

“No, I think he just needs some time. Give him space until he’s ready.” She said. 

Curt sighed, reasoning that Tatiana was still wiser than him about this stuff. She nudged him, “We still have a lot of catching up to do. You want to know about the people you are going to be celebrating the pace-off with, do you not?” 

“Try Passover. The chet can be hard to pronounce if you’ve never spoken Hebrew before.” Curt helped her. 

“Passover.” Tatiana repeated. 

Curt smiled weakly, “I would love to.” 

The sun had dropped, and the moon stood out amongst the stars in the night sky. Curt stepped out into his backyard and sat himself down next to Owen on the large flat rock overlooking the pond. 

“Hey.” Curt said. 

“Hey.” Owen didn’t look up.

“You’ve been out here all day?” Curt asked. Owen nodded. 

“You should eat some dinner.” Curt said. Owen didn’t respond physically or verbally. 

Curt sighed, picking up a small stone and skipping it. It skipped five times. Owen looked up and gave him a slight smile, “That was a good one.” 

“Thank you.” 

Owen sobered again, though, bringing his knees to his chest, “Curt, can I tell you something?”

“Always.” 

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get better.” 

Curt looked at him, “What?”

“I don’t think I’m going to get better.” Owen repeated. 

“Owen, what are you saying?” Curt said, trying to process, “That’s not true.” 

“It is. You know it is.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

Owen deflated, “Sorry.” 

Curt opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do or how to help. He felt completely useless. 

Then a thought occurred. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say or how to help because he didn’t even understand the problem. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t really know what Owen was talking about. 

“Why don’t you think you’re going to get better, Owe?”

Owen took a deep breath, “Because when I was starting to feel fine with myself, with us… it only took a sentence to make me feel like, like I did before.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was scared and useless and completely at the mercy of others. When I let myself hurt you before my heart could catch up with what was left of my mind. Like… like that,” Owen buried his face in his knees, “I’m never going to heal from this. It’s going to haunt me forever.”

Before Curt could say anything Owen whispered, “It’s worse. Curt, I hate them. I don’t regret what I did. But I feel guilty. I shouldn’t, but I feel guilty betraying them. I’m so fucked up.”

Curt gently placed a hand on Owen’s back, “You had a traumatic near-death experience, were tortured for about three years, and manipulated for longer. That’s not something you can expect to get over in a day. You might never ‘get over it’. It’s still going to hurt you. But that doesn’t mean you’re not healing. And Owen, it certainly doesn’t mean you can’t find happiness. I mean, look at us right now, talking about this instead of bottling it up. This,” he pointed at from Owen to himself and back, “is proof of improvement.” 

Owen nodded, scooting closer to Curt and leaning against him a bit, “I don’t like the thought of people seeing me in that… state. Even if it was just Barb and her team, and even if they think I’m dead, it’s still humiliating for me.” 

“Yeah… I can see where you’re coming from, Owe. I get it.” Curt sighed, he’d be horrified if their positions were reversed. 

“I’m sorry. The Owen you knew before wouldn’t have let this affect him so much. Five years ago I wouldn’t have lost my shit like this.” 

“The Owen I knew before is sitting next to me right now, babe,” Curt said, “I don’t need you to be anybody other than the man you are right now.” 

Owen looked at him, “Thanks, doll.”

“Don’t mention it,” Curt yawned, “Come have dinner?”

“Sure.” Owen smiled and let Curt help him up. 

“So what are you going to do once you’re free?” Curt asked one day, a couple weeks later, in a tone far too casual for Owen’s comfort. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, once Chimera is destroyed. You have everything you need to start a new life.” 

Owen looked at him, “Right…” 

Curt looked away, “Do you have any plans yet?”

“Okay, Curt. What is this, exactly?” Owen asked, trying to sound more exasperated than scared. 

“You were trapped in a place against your will for four years.” 

“Yes, I am well aware of my own tragic backstory, Curt,” Owen joked, “Is there a point you’re getting at, love?”

“I mean, you’re going to be truly free for the first time in five years. I don’t want to keep you trapped. You don’t have any obligation to stay with me if you don’t want to.” Curt said softly. 

“Oh. Oh, love…” Owen breathed a sigh of relief, then cupped Curt’s face, “Former-Agent Curtis Mega, I, Former-Agent Owen Carvour, while completely sound of mind can tell you from the bottom of my heart that there is no one else I’d rather be with, and nowhere else I’d rather be than right by your side.” 

“I won’t believe you until you put your hand on a bible and swear under oath.” Curt said with a stupid grin on his face. 

“Shut up! I am trying to be sweet and heartfelt and you, Former-Agent Curtis Mega, are ruining it!” Owen scowled, but before Curt had the chance to laugh in his face, Owen surged forward and kissed him intently. Curt reciprocated immediately, letting out a small moan as Owen deepened the kiss. Owen gasped into the kiss as Curt rocked into him, one hand on his back and another in his hair. When they pulled back for breath, Curt wasted no time before he was kissing down Owen’s neck. 

“W-Wait, Curt.” Owen mumbled. Curt immediately stopped and pulled back, “You still wanted to discuss future plans, right?” 

Curt didn’t even bother hiding his smile, “Owen, baby, I would love to. But if it’s all good with you, I think it can wait a bit.” 

“Your hand is on my ass.” Owen said. 

“Exactly.” 

Owen grinned at him, “I suppose it can wait a bit.  _ Jesus, I thought you were going to break up with me.” _ Curt chuckled before leading them into the bedroom.

“I was thinking we could buy our own house. Close by to your mother, of course, but it could be really nice to live in a place of our own.” Owen said, lying stomach down on Curt’s chest while Curt idly raked his fingers across his back. 

“Mm. I like the sound of that,” Curt agreed, “I was already thinking about that too, actually.” 

“I also wanted to get a job. Not sure where, but something far removed from what I was doing before.” 

Curt gazed at his lover fondly, “I’m sure you’ll think of something. Then I’ll be inspired to think of something too.” 

Owen chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to Curt’s lips, “It’ll all work out, you know. We’ll make it work out.”

* * *

Curt entered the bakery and began walking over to the counter before hearing a familiar voice and stopping himself, not wanting to intrude on whatever today’s ramble would be. He leaned against the wall next to the doorway, allowing himself a little smile as he began to listen.

“Oh man, Theo. You have no idea how excited my children are about the move. The new school system looks  _ great  _ and there’s a park right next to our new house. My wife and I already have everything in boxes and we’re going shopping tonight to buy the new house a fresh coat of paint, but I’m really going to miss you, my guy. For a brit, you can make a mean buñuelo. For real, my guy. I’m serious you-” 

“Sergio,” Owen cut him off, handing him a few boxes of pastries, “Our business.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Sergio said, taking the boxes, “But, um, Theo…” 

“Yes?”

“You gave me an extra box.”

“Miguelitos. On the house.” 

“You… You serious, man?” 

“This may be the last time I see my best customer,” Owen began, Sergio smiled at him, “And besides, they say to do what you love and I love doing this. So, I’ll even do it for free.”

“Thanks, man. I’m really gonna miss you.” Sergio said. 

“Well, they do say one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

Owen grinned, “Always end on a high note.” 

“Goodbye, Theo.”

“Bye, Sergio.” 

The two waved at each other, Sergio nearly bumping into Curt on his way out. Curt watched him go, unable to help but feel a little fond. He made his way over to the counter, pleased by the lack of other customers in the shop right now to worry about disrupting. 

“I’ll take everything in house.” Curt announced, resting his elbows on the countertop.

“Everything? Really?” Owen asked in mock-astonishment. 

“Everything you got.” 

Owen laughed. Curt’s smile softened. 

“Hey The-Owe.” Curt said, cheekily emphasizing the last part of Owen’s ‘name’. 

“Hey yourself,” Owen replied, “Someone’s in a good mood. You got the job, old boy?”

“You know it.” 

“Hm. Special ranger Curtis Mega… it has a ring.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Curt rolled his eyes, “But my mom’s gonna be thrilled. She loves the park. Oh, and she wants us over for dinner tomorrow night, that cool?” 

Owen nodded, humming. 

“So, family man’s moving away. You gonna be alright?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Owen sighed, “That’s just life, I suppose. It’s always moving forward and changing, so the people you meet will come and go as well.” 

“Well, not everyone.” Curt said. 

“No, not everyone.” Owen agreed. 

Owen took his hand and squeezed it three times.  _ I love you.  _

Curt squeezed four times back.  _ I love you too.  _

“See you when you get home. Oh, and bring me a doughnut.” 

“Rosquilla, Curt.” 

“Whatever, it’s the same thing.” Curt said, Owen made a face. 

“And you have to pay for them.” Owen said, despite knowing that he didn’t. 

“No, I don’t.” Curt said, knowing that he didn’t. 

“You’re horrible,” Owen let out a sigh far too exasperated for the situation to be real before squeezing Curt’s hand once more before letting go, “See you at home.” 

Owen waved Curt goodbye for now, smiling to himself as he set aside a pastry. He was looking forward to when his shift was over and he could go home to his partner who, like always, would be right there waiting for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a journey. Thank you guys so so much for sticking with it 'till the end. I didn't expect that it would take almost a year to complete but honestly it's been a blast to write. First fully finished fic and it's these funny gay spies. Hell yeah. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it and are all staying healthy and safe!! And thank you again for reading!!! <3


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